ALICE II
by schnook
Summary: The sequel to 'ALICE.' Wonderland has never been so adventurous before...
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, everyone! Well, the sequel to ALICE is finally up **

**(and if you're just joining us now, I strongly recommend you read 'ALICE' before this – trust me, it will make a lot more sense! - the link is on my profile)**

**Oh yes, and I had initially wanted to put up some art to go along with ALICE on deviantart, but my scanner has most conveniently crashed, so that idea might have to be put on hold for a little.**

**So, what else is there to do but declare that its on with the story!**

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter One**

**Alice, Queen of Hearts**

I might take the time to indulge you of the splendor that was Alice's coronation. It is true, just as it was rumored, that there was nothing else like it ever seen, or ever will be seen. It was bountiful as it was beautiful, but to waste time on the ceremony, and critisize what Alice herself may have been wearing would be, if I may be so blunt, an utter waste of time. And as we all know, time is, and always has been, the very essence of this story – so why waste it?

Time was, if you recall, the very thing that started Alice's adventures in Wonderland. It was the flame the lit a small candle that would forever burn, even as the small white rabbit pranced about exclaiming to itself. Time was what started the child's curiosity, and time will, no doubt, be the very thing to end it. So, as this new chapter of Alice's life opens and begins to reveal itself, it would be only fitting for the first subject to be discussed to be that of time.

Time seemed indefinite to Alice now, as Wonderland had a queer trick to make the mind believe itself to be floating in a non-descriptive space, where there was no beginning, and will be no end. But, as we know, it is only a trick, and all things great and small must eventually have an end. How some things end, no one really knows.

So it was here, at this point of our discussion, that Alice had been pacing elegantly (or as elegantly as she could) up and down the halls of the palace she was most ungraciously made to live in. The rhythm of her footsteps was undisturbed by any other sound; only the constant light clicking of her feet filled the space. There was something horribly cold about the place; a fact Alice had been trying to ignore. Perhaps she just missed the chaotic coziness that the Hare's house brought to her senses, or the company, or whichever.

She made an injured sniff. Thinking of her former companions brought her much pain, as she had not seen either of them for what must have been weeks. At first she had thought it had been her own fault; as her new, busy and demanding schedule may have intimidated them, or made it impossible to find the time (there it is again) to meet. But, as time went on she realized that they had not been responding to any of her letters or invitations, and she had begun to wonder if she might have offended them. Didn't they want her to be their Queen? That was what she had always supposed they wanted. But, whoever or whatever was at fault caused the friends to stop meeting, and Alice couldn't help but feel the loss.

The Hare himself had been kinder than the Hatter. At least _he_ had bothered to come up with excuses not to come, or wrote her comforting letters assuring her they were just as bust as she – and would no doubt visit when their schedule was less demanding. But as for the Hatter, she heard and saw nothing. It broke her heart a little more than she would have liked to admit, so she settled herself to think that she had merely lost touch with a friend, and nothing more. Another sniff.

She had seen the Hatter at her coronation, and since then, nothing. He had stood at the very back, and when she moved to approach him, he had shrugged her off, leaving her to the bubbling guests. He had looked almost unrecognizable to Alice when she had seen him – he had looked younger, yet older at the same time. Dark pain had etched itself into his face, and his eyes looked yellow with some sort of sickness Alice had no name for. Though, on the other hand, his skin looked like it had been stretched a little tighter over his bones, making him look at least a year younger than his former age – whatever it had been. He had rushed away from her, biting back an irritable growl behind his teeth. It seemed the Hatter she had known, and had seemingly loved her, was gone forever.

So as Alice continued to pace, these morbid thoughts chasing the others around her head, she was startled to find Abaddon rudely interrupting her reverie. He stood in the doorway – like he always did – and leaned against the wood work rather awkwardly, looking too firm and bulky to be relying on such a delicate piece of architecture. He looked unsure of what to do. She waited for him to speak first, though the silence lengthened for a little while as he must have been, she assumed, collecting his thoughts that seemed as scattered as her own.

He took a deep breath, which was to her surprise quite shaky. "Your Majest-," he began, though quickly inserted her name, just as she had ordered everyone to do. All these 'majesty' stuff had made her head dizzy. "Alice, there is a problem."

A problem was all well and good, Alice had thought to herself rather gloomily, it was just which kind of problem that she was interested in. There were a good many problems going on in Wonderland – it just depended on who you were. To Alice, the Hare and Hatter's constant absence was a problem, though to them it may have been a blessing. The former Queen of Hearts had passed away several weeks ago, which was a very painful problem for Abaddon, though to Alice (it was generally assumed) it brought about a new, joyful era to her life. Problems, you see, are relative, all depending on which side of it you take. Though there was no relativity to the words Abaddon spoke next.

"We are under threat," he should have spoke solemnly, though the idea of another war rather excited him. Like a little boy with his toys. War was Abaddon's greatest toy.

"Ah," Alice paused, "that _is_ problem. By who?"

Abaddon shrugged, and at first Alice assumed that it didn't really matter to him – what should he care of who he was fighting, as long as he could fight, he should be happy with whoever was on the other end of his sword. Alice was wrong, though. "We have no idea, it's sort of hard to explain."

Alice stared him down evenly, knowing all too well this was a plot to keep 'heavy burdens' from the Queen. Wonderland may be a wonderful place, but the general trust and opinion of the female sex was horribly undermined. "Try me," she ordered.

He sighed, hating to concede. "It would be more appropriate to say _what_ is against us, instead of _who_."

Alice gasped, her imagination getting carried away. "You don't mean the cats have wakened, do you?" After the former Queen had cast her sleeping spell on the cats of the kingdom, they had been frozen in time, and Alice was still unsure of what to do with them. She had professors and scientist researching for any way to reverse Victoria's disease, but so far, nothing had been found. So, for now, they were locked securely like stone statues in the castle's dungeons, awaiting their fate.

"No, not the cats. I – I am not fit for telling you the whole story, Alice. Only one person knows it fully, and has experienced it first hand. _He_ can be the one to explain to you."

"Who do you mean?" But to Alice's dismay she had questioned too late. Joining them in the room, stepped in a solemn-looking Hatter, with shadows under and above his eyes.

"Hello Alice," he said simply.

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**A little short, but it _is_ an introductory chapter.**

**I was so encouraged by everyone's reviews on the last chapter of Alice, I was inspired to get this chapter up as soon as I could!**

**Well, let's hear what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Attention readers:**

**Okay, so it has come to my attention that there has been _a lot_ of concern as to whether poor Hatter will live to see the end of this sequel. So, I will take this opportunity to put your minds at rest – Hatter _is_ and always will be (the very much alive) hero of this story. There you go; he'll live (of course) because I just love him so much!**

**I also wanted to mention some background in regard to Hatter's "illness."**

**I have read a lot of AlicexHatter fanfic, and whenever I do, I can't cast away one of the most seemingly obvious obstacles to their relationship. So, to honor this little problem that won't erase itself from my mind, I decided to make it a theme in my sequel.**

**Can anyone guess what it is?**

**Go on; take a moment to think about it.**

**Anyway, it is going to be revealed in this chapter anyway, so please review at the end and tell me (if you _did_ take that moment to think) if you were close. You guys know how much I _love_ hearing theories!**

**So, it is with great pleasure, that I give you Chapter Two!**

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter Two**

**A Relatively Small Problem**

It would be no shock to you, I'm sure, to inform you that Alice was taken slightly aback.

But perhaps that would be an understatement.

So, in order to be fair to young Alice, let us take this moment to pause briefly in the moment of time and take a real glimpse into the head of the terribly confused young woman. If the emotions spinning around her head would have ever the need to order themselves into something of a list, the individual feelings would arrange themselves as follows:

-Confusion

-Shock

-Outrage

-Contempt

-Embarrassment

-Hurt

-Discomfort

-Mystification

-Embarrassment

-Embarrassment

-Denial

-Worry

-Embarrassment

-Anger

-Embarrassment

-Embarrassment

-Embarrassment

-Embarrassment

-Embarrassment

A somewhat confusing and repetitive list, perhaps, but nonetheless accurate to the truth. Though, once these emotions had passed, and the red from her face had faded to nothing more than an reasonably attractive pink painted on her cheeks, she was recovered enough to make a standard reply, as uncreative and automatic as that reply may have been.

"Hello Hatter," she returned, wondering when she had consciously ordered the words to pass through her lips. What was done was done, however, and now she knew it was only a matter of time before he would explain briefly, then discard himself from her life forever. It sounded over dramatic; yes. But in situations such as these, Alice could not help but turn sentimental.

The Hatter threw a furtive glance around the supremely-polished hall, his expression turning bleaker (if it were even possible) as he took in his fine surroundings. Everything, to Alice's severe dismay, seemed to sparkle in the palace, and she could only imagine how out-of-place the usually spontaneous and wild Hatter would feel in such surroundings. It made a hollow pit in her stomach.

"This is a splendid place you have here, your majesty," he made a poor effort to offer a smile, though it turned to nothing more than a grim smirk, "I should imagine your quite comfortable here."

The words were not necessarily harsh; in fact, Alice could see he was trying his best to keep her happy. There was no unkindness in his tone, nor anger in his eyes, but there was still something underlying his voice that seemed to make the entire room fill with cobwebs. It rumbled under his words like an unhealthy motor, and as hard as Alice tried to tune it out, it only seemed to make her world more miserable. It was the kind of voice one could weep about sitting in the back row of a cheap opera performance.

"Oh yes, I am quite content here," she responded almost automatically with undue civility. She was not sure why she had responded in such a way, or why she was even bothering to play along with such meaningless formalities. This was what she had always hoped to escape; yet something in her made the words bubble forth, as if any response would do as long as the words kept him near her for just a little while longer. Pathetic? Perhaps; but Alice was long past the point where her main goal was to maintain her dignity. Now, she was just trying to protect her heart, even though she hated to admit to the simple fact.

Hatter kept his face perfectly blank, till he decided it was best to delve straight into his reason for coming, a fact that made Alice cringe slightly. With a single blink, and without proposing to move into a more comfortable area, he began his account, while the two others listened on, standing ram-rod straight in the cold corridor of the marbled palace.

"It is probably best not to go too deep into any particulars, but in short, your majesty, there is and always has been certain...balances that were essential to keep Wonderland in function. Of course, you can assume that these balances involved two extremes; good and evil."

"And we are the good?" Alice butted in, not without gaining a little satisfaction from it. She did not appreciate the cold authority in Hatter's voice, so defying it in the smallest amount was enough to keep her from violence toward him.

Hatter sighed before the same grim smirk played on his lips, whether at her obvious pleasure at interrupting him or her question, one could not say. "We _try_, though I'd hardly call Wonderland and it's residents pure."

A little 'o' shaped Alice's mouth, and she ventured to ask no more. She could not deny that she had no idea of what the Hatter was talking about, after all, she herself in recent months had just managed to escape from the hands of a blood-thirsty killer. She clasped her hands in front her, signaling for the Hatter to go on. For a small instant, a genuine smile flashed across him at the familiar gesture. But all too soon, it was gone.

"Evil, like good, could hardly be justified as only that, as there are always varying degrees. But ultimately the problem is that this...balance, if you like, has swayed. It is unbalanced."

"Why?" Alice asked, because it was easier than admitting she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Not important," he dismissed all speculation with a wave of the hand, "what is important is that we stop this. To do so we need permission to take the army. We need the whole army."

"We?" Her ears pricked up at the inclusive word. Worry started to build itself up inside of her.

"Yes – we," he repeated, though not shedding any light on the subject. His position had stiffened a little, and she knew she had hit a sensitive nerve.

"But _who_ are _we_?" She persisted.

Hatter hesitated. "_We_ means_ I _go, too," he had taken his hat off out of respect; perhaps he had been ordered to before entering. But the hat was now rotating it in his hands nervously as he bit down tentatively on his lower lip.

"You?" Alice cried incredulously, "that's not necessary at all. Besides, I've seen how you fight. What on earth is this about, anyway?"

Till this point Abaddon had been standing out of the exchange the entire time, keeping on a blank mask of indifference. But at this point a broad, mischievous smile spread out on his face, as if he could not help himself. The mask of formality melted, and he chuckled under his breath, obviously knowing something Alice did not and loving the fact.

"What's so funny?" She demanded as she turned from the grinning Abaddon to the pale Hatter, "you have to tell me; I'm the Queen," she said this last fact with a little reluctance.

Hatter sighed, a deep breath full of some sort of untold emotion. It held the same tone she had heard earlier – the sound of deep grievance hidden under layers of years. It made her cringe slightly, wishing she could reach out to touch him, or give some sort of assurance. But those days had long past.

"As you wish," he bowed his head to her solemnly, then snapped it up to face Abaddon, "you can go now," he dismissed him with such authority Alice nearly laughed. The idea of the Hatter bossing anyone around seemed ludicrous, as well as slightly annoying.

Abaddon couldn't help but let a disturbing giggle escape his lips. "Oh, and just when the fun was starting!" He gave Alice a mischievous wink, then a glance at the Hatter's grave face almost set him in hysterics. He made his way out of the hall, fighting dark chuckles the whole way out, either from respect or dignity. But as soon as he was no longer in view, both Alice and Hatter were able to hear his laughter echo throughout the castle. Alice listened to it, mystified. She turned to Hatter with a questioning look, but he had already held up one hand to stop her.

"I'm sorry Alice, but I have a lot of explaining to do to you."

A deep pang of betrayal stung at Alice's heart, though she had always figured this time would come, and she forced herself to face him with cold indifference. "Well, you better start now then."

He glanced down, hiding his sickly eyes from her view, and from the way he slumped Alice realized with a jolt of guilt how tired he must be. "When I – It was not my – I did not expect-" Hatter sighed, starting over several times. His face turned quite pink, but he took a deep breath to steady his speeding breath, and forced himself to face Alice squarely. He rounded his shoulders, and straightened himself to his full height. Determination lit his eyes.

"Would you mind so very much if I was utterly frank, Alice?"

Alice tried to muster her own confidence, though failed miserably. Her chin jutted out just the smallest fraction as she tries to mirror his bravery. "Please do, Hatter."

"When I fell in love with you it was a terrible mistake. I had no idea of the consequences," his voice was sad, as if he was disturbed by the logic he had failed to see. Alice, however, could see no obvious logic at his words, only agonizing heartbreak. A pitiful breath passed out through her lips as she heard the words. She had expected frankness – but not to this degree. This would have bothered her more had it not been for the breaking that was searing through her figurative heart; now she knew for sure he had decided it was best for him to no longer love her. Not even be friends with her. He wanted no more to do with her – she was sure of it.

"The consequences?" Alice quivered, feeling as if a dark hole were eating her up. His word kept running through her mind over and over like a broken record player; _a terrible mistake, a terrible mistake, a terrible mistake..._

It was true that she had never really sought out his affections, but the sudden withdrawal of them made her feel crippled, as if she were missing a leg.

"I am sorry to have given you any impressions, Alice, and it was insufferable of me to behave in such a way toward you – though it was all sincere – but you must understand, I have _nothing_ to offer you, as much as I wish for it not to be so," he gazed at her, though she had the feeling he was not quite seeing her. Instead his gaze drifted to a far away place, a place Alice could never follow him into.

"I don't see what this has to do with you going – somewhere, to fight – something. I'm confused. Hopelessly confused," Alice managed to explain after a long, awkward pause. She felt as if she were pulling information from him string by string; an agonizing effort when she felt barely strong enough herself.

"You have no doubt noticed, Alice, my curious trick of aging. Well, these dark forces mentioned earlier are at large responsible for it. I go with your army for the personal reason to try to find a cure for it," he said it as if it were simple, though Alice could hardly see how that was possible.

"Why must you find a cure for it?"

Hatter shook his head, exasperated. He took her firmly by the shoulders, and a thrill shot through Alice at the touch that had been absent for so long. He stared down intently into her eyes, as though from those means alone could he communicate his vital message. "Don't you _see_, Alice? I'm getting _younger_. I'll _continue_ to get younger. When I met you again I was selfish, I foolishly believed myself able to overcome my obstacle in good time, and that I could convince you to love me without hurting either of us," at this point his voice turned bitter, "how wrong I was. Can't you see? Three days ago I turned twenty-two, next year I'll be twenty-one. By the time you're thirty I'll be eleven years old," he let out an agonized sob at the realization, "those dark forces are my only hope to reverse this curse."

"Then why do you avoid me? If they can reverse it for you, then isn't there a chance – for us?" Alice was desperate, searching his face that was so close to her own; searching for some kind of hope in his skin that was soaked in sorrow. It was the first time she had mentioned the possibility of the two of them attempting any form of relationship, a fact both of them noted.

He let out a brief, hollow laugh. "The chance is about a million to one. I have absolute faith in that my death may very well be destined to occur in those dark mountains where the creatures lay."

"Your death?" Alice choked out incredulously.

He sighed, and it was just now that Alice could identify the dark undertone in his voice. She could now put a name to the hollow death that weighed down his usually animated voice. It was as if her ear had to lower itself to hear him now. He had given up; that was the shadow in his voice, the pain that dropped it octaves lower. He had given up.

"My death, Alice. What other option for me is there-"

She silenced him by tilting up on her toes to reach his forehead, planting a firm kiss on his ant-aging skin. She planted herself back on the soles of her feet, meeting his eyes with a new determination of her own.

"If you're going there, I'm going there."

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Before anyone comments on it, the balance is certainly _not_ a starwars spin-off! Ha ha! **

**Well, had anyone else though that Hatter's aging may have been a problem in their relationaship? Was it a little too weird? I'm worried – so please let me know what you think of it!**

**And I know not much was explained, so the fuller explanation will come in the next chapter or so. Hope you guys liked it!**

**Review?**

**PS. thanks to the following reviewers:**

**LizzySkellington **

**steamboatwillie1928**

**OceanFae**

**Evelyn Rose**

**DangermouseDavs**

**kiityhumanoid**

_**YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello lovelies – it has been _too_ long!**

**Just to warn you – this chapter is a little different, as it is written entirely from the Hatter's perspective. Just to make things a little more interesting.**

**Sorry if the chapter is a bit short and not so much to it, but I just wanted to jump into the Hatter's shoes for a small minute (ps. They were _way_ too big for me!)**

**Moving onward to the third chapter!**

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter Three**

**A Labored Legend **

I had never been one for story telling.

I find the whole business of it rather dull and unnecessary, and if I had not been pressured into it so spontaneously and ungallantly, I would have infinitely preferred to have let the whole thing lie as it was. Archaic tales should never be repeated – whether they be true or not, relevant or not, entertaining or not – let the tales sit and let the dust fall over them till it builds into a soft, murky wall of time; warding off any new comers who may dare to peep inside the woeful tale. Let the folk tales lie, and do not re-open them – that is my opinion. Unfortunately, though, presumptuous and somewhat curious young ladies with sapphire-morning eyes would like to think otherwise.

I may be mad, but madness does not bring incoherency along with it. Not constantly, at any rate. And I know that what has been unrepeated and unopened for years should remain as such. I am old enough to know that. Old tales bring old sorrows to new people. It is a guaranteed fact.

But I know that these two glistening blue stones will not be satisfied till I have indulged her with every irrelevant detail. Or relevant detail. It does not matter to her, or to me for that matter. So I have nothing left in me but to sigh, because I hate and adore this weakness I have toward her, and my inability to deny the quenching of that never-ending thirst of her damned curiosity. So I quench it. Just as I always have, and just as I always will.

And so the story begins, though reluctantly on my part.

"You are being vague," Alice informed my with stubborn intensity, as I knew she would. My account had not satisfied her, and I wonder if it ever really will. The stories in my head barely make sense to me, let alone her. Come to think of it, very little in my head makes sense to me.

"My dear, why should I imitate Vague when I am perfectly capable of relating this to you myself," I sigh because there is a slight half-truth to it, and because it has been many years since I have seen Vague. Or perhaps I sighed because I had breathed out particularly heavily at that moment. Either way, I sigh, and I indulge in the habit.

Alice presses her palms together, as if calming anger. It is something I have often seen her do as she speaks to me, or rather, when I speak to her. It makes me want to chuckle, though there is hardly anything humorous about it.

"Hatter, this is important," she tells me needlessly, "I need you to concentrate."

So I concentrate. Though I consider pointing out to her that concentration can be interpreted in very different ways. And as always, I pick the wrong way.

"What on earth are you doing?" I can only hear her demanding voice now, as my eyes are shut securely.

"Concentrating."

"No doubt," Alice's voice slowed down to a petty crawl, "but would you mind concentrating on the story you were telling me?" Her words do not bite me, instead, her impatience makes me smile.

"Alright," I open my eyes and let the world re-adjust in my orbs, "I will tell you." Ah, but how much I tell her is utterly relative.

"Good." She waits, her palms still pressed.

I wait.

She sighs.

I smile.

"Hatter!" She growls after numerous minutes have ticked passed. I know it is of dire importance, but as I have mentioned earlier, I do so hate telling stories. Especially this one. I test her patience, merely because I can, because secretly I know she would not bother with someone so seemingly annoying, if it had not been for the simple fact that it is me. And she loves me. Or at least, I am gradually convincing her of the fact.

"Well go on," she prompts me wearily. I can see the marks drawn across her face. Each of those marks tell me her story. The shadow under her eyes tell me she's tired. The crease on the corner of her lips tell me she's been smiling. The slightly fallen porcelain on her forehead tells me she's frowned. She's weary. She's impatient. She's excited. She's nervous. Decided. Hungry. Worn. Restless. In love. I stop at the sparkle in her blue depths, and wish I could point it out to her. Then she'd know she's in love; with me.

"It came from an event. A real event," I tell her just as wearily, because I know I cannot delay it any longer, "but as the years past, the event turned to a legend. Everyone doubted it's existence. I doubted it's existence."

She stared at me, waiting for me to continue. When I didn't do so immediately, she rose one eyebrow delicately, "vague," was all that passed out from so delicately, I couldn't be sure if she had really said it.

I sighed and eyed her levelly. "Don't interrupt and you'll hear it all." That is, if she did interrupt. At least the warning had been shown, as I was sure she would need it at some stage. I prepare myself to continue, even though I hate the idea of it.

"In the legend, it was said that Wonderland had harbored a variety or creatures that had been banished to the outer canyons. They were not so much creatures as they were elements, though I think that's where the legend had taken its artistic liberty overboard. The legend said that they were spirit-like elements – untouchable, as far as anyone knew. However, I would write that off."

"The legend continued to speak of the havoc these creatures created as they were locked away. Though they were imprisoned, they were not out of activity, and they enjoyed spreading cruelty and misfortune to those who so happened to come close enough to them. By misfortune I mean death, and by cruelty I imply torture."

Alice opened her mouth, but decided otherwise and closed it, no doubt remembering our bargain. I managed to smirk before continuing.

"So the heroes of this legend were the small band of warriors that set off to defeat these creatures, though they had no idea how."

Alice brightened, probably sensing the end of the seemingly stereotypical folk tale drawing closer. "And they conquered the creatures, and all returned to as it was?" The hope in her voice was tangible.

I stared at her, sensing that she obviously did not see the connection. "No," I enjoyed informing her as if it should have been obvious, "they were never seen or heard of again. Dead. Fried. Burnt to a crisp – whatever may have happened to them there made them incapable of living to tell the story."

Alice blinked, and her face fell. "But you just said they were the heroes of the story!" I didn't see how she could get so worked up over it, it was as if she had been let down in a way I didn't and couldn't understand.

"They tried," I shrugged, "that makes them heroes, doesn't it?"

But she shook her head, still not satisfied with the ending. "Then what's the point of a legend if it has no moral? No hero? No hope? What kind of legend was that? How many children have run away screaming once you have related that to them?"

I laughed at her. She obviously did not understand, and I pitied her simplicity of mind. "Don't you see, Alice? It's not a legend. That's why it ends like that. Reality – if the term could ever be used in it's true sense here – is far more disappointing than the average fairytale."

Her brow furrowed in confusion, and I sighed at her ignorance. This was what I hated most about telling stories; the bothersome task of explaining everything. It is so tiring after one had done it for at least a hundred times.

"But you said that it had been a legend," she obviously pointed out.

"No, the legend came from the truth, then the truth re-appeared from the legend," I told her, bored. I imagined myself spinning around in circles – getting nowhere except a new cup of tea. Though in a sense, I doubt I was merely imagining it.

Alice watched me for a moment, as if thinking my words over. It bothered me when she did that; her stare can make one shift uncomfortably from side to side – though I have no idea whether she does it intentionally or not. Knowing Alice, it was probably intentional.

"I see," Alice remarked slowly, though her eyes held confusion. I waited for her to continue, as I knew as well as anybody there would be more to come. I was right. As usual. A smile.

"But I still do not see the connection to what is happening now. What are you trying to tell me?" She finally broke out impatiently. She crossed her arms angrily. Alice hated being confused.

I wondered for the briefest of moments if I should just scoop her into my arms and haul her out of Wonderland for good. She might be gray, bored and unexceptional up there - or wherever it was she had formally been – but she would be alive, which is no guarantee I can give her here. It would hurt, but she could feel sweet air in her lungs. I sighed deeply and hung my head.

"It means they're coming."

"The legend?" Alice scoffed.

I sighed again with the world's accumulated pain rushing through my lips and shut my eyes tight, as if to block it out. "No, Alice; the reality."

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Ta-Da!**

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	4. Chapter 4

**Yay! An update!**

**First of all, sorry if some were confused by the last chapter. You see, I didn't want to be too specific, otherwise what would be left for me to write? I can only hope you'll put up with me, and gradually things will make more sense as we go along (I hope).**

**...So yeah...**

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter Four**

**Nothing**

If the Hatter had professed the reality to be pursuing them, Alice could not help but wonder what ever was to come next. It was true – she did not understand all of what the Hatter had spoken of, but she could not help but feel a small amount of pleasure mount in her chest when she considered that he had obviously trusted her enough to confide in her. Pleasurable as the thought may have been, the problem still remained, and no amount of love or justice could fix the fact that they would very soon be under attack, that is, if they did not do anything to stop it first. And Alice had every intention of stopping it first.

Alice was no fool; she knew instantly that this problem involved more than shooing away your average band of rebels. Though she understood the complexity of the issue, she could not understand it all. Even with all his years in Wonderland, the Hatter could not satisfy all of Alice's demanding curiosities, and before she knew it, she was setting off to find the one creature in Wonderland who would surely know what to do.

The Caterpillar.

The impulsive, rude, arrogant, haughty, egotistical, yet ever-wise insect himself. The idea did not please Alice in the slightest, but the meeting was necessary. No one but the Caterpillar could broaden the microscopic beam the Hatter had shed on the subject, into a full-blown halo. He alone had been here the longest, seen the most, heard the most, shown the most, and no doubt smoked the most. He was the answer; a repulsive answer perhaps, but so be it.

Alice sighed to herself before guiding her way cautiously through the over-sized mushrooms. The dirt beneath her feet felt dangerously soggy; as if at any moment she would surely slip through it like quicksand, and at least twice, she was sure she had lost sight of her feet as she walked. She hurried on quickly, not giving the ground the pleasure of seizing her ankles. It was not long before the air around her took a smoky edge, and her eyes strained to see through the heavy fog that was drifting from the tallest mushroom. She looked up at it, but was too short to see if _he_ was laying luxuriantly on top. All she could see was the broad underneath of the fungus, molding slightly under the constant pressure of smoke.

She took a deep breath, mustered up her courage (and limited patience), and called out loudly.

"Hello up there!"

She waited.

Silence.

Thinking her sound waves may have been blocked by the barely transparent layer of fog, she called out again, though louder.

Silence.

Alice rolled her eyes, sure that he was having her on. The Caterpillar had always taken pleasure from upsetting her, and most likely still did. Queen or not, Alice knew that to him she would always be that little, annoying, yet unusually inquisitive girl that had pestered him all those years ago. Nothing would change that. She called out again, careful not to let any hint of impatience leak through her voice. She would by no means give him the pleasure.

"Mr. Caterpillar!"

Silence.

_Deadly_ silence.

Alice bit down on her lip, frowning at the sudden heaviness that had descended upon the place. In a split second, the vibrant blue smoke had turned a monotone gray, and her surroundings quietened to reflect nothing more than the uneven beating of her own heart. Her forehead furrowed deeper as she felt some form of foreshadowing doom descend upon her.

"Caterpillar?" She called out again, beginning to feel uncertain for the first time. A wave of dread had crashed over her, and for no apparent reason, she found herself shivering.

She hoisted herself up, determined to climb to the top of the mushroom. Clambering up the rubber stem, her shoes squeaked faintly against the vertical length. With a heaving pull, she struggled with the edge of the flattened top. She almost let go as she stared at the surface. The usually multi-coloured, vibrant mushroom top had dulled to a monotone dark charcoal. She flipped herself up onto the surface. She glanced around her. The mushroom was even bigger on the surface than it seemed on the ground below.

"Mr. Caterpillar?" Her voice was no longer strong, but small and tentative. Something was terribly wrong. It prickled against her skin, almost palatable as the sensation hung in the air. She took in another shaky breath.

"Alice," came a low voice, yet thankfully belonging to none other than The Caterpillar. It rumbled from behind her – a deep, pleasant sound, yet painfully weighed down - as if years of wear-and-tear had caused it to blend with the music of thunder. It pained her physically to hear it.

She turned around to reprimand him – chastise the revolting creature for scaring her in such a way, however, no words could form themselves at the sight of him. The Caterpillar lay, crumbled into himself, staring at her lazily through half-lidded eyes, his tiny sets of hands struggling to keep the hookah in his mouth. Every time he tried to move he visibly winced in pain. The Caterpillar – the symbol of wisdom and justice all throughout Wonderland, the pinnacle of knowledge, and the master of self-assured egotism – _The Caterpillar_ – lay crumpled on the floor, dying. Tears prickled Alice's eyes.

"You're-" She began to say the inevitable, but he cut her off, supplying his own words to her half-finished statement.

"Concerned," he stated. His voice rumbled through the air, shaking the mushroom's surface slightly.

"Concerned?" Alice repeated, confused. Of course he was concerned. He was dying. The two together were a perfect fit, yet Alice could sense he cared little for his helpless state.

"Concerned for your Queendom," he went on. His eyes bored into hers, as if her were addressing someone hidden deep inside of her, though she had no idea who. His eyes were two glass mirrors, and she saw herself staring straight back. She bit back a smile at his comment, and chastised herself for thinking so meanly of him before. He was concerned for Wonderland, never himself, but always for Wonderland. And Alice wouldn't trade that selfless spirit he had for Wonderland for anything.

"Not only do they have _you_ for a Queen," his gaze flicked her up and down, as if he were able to judge her accurately within half a seconds gaze, "but now we also have some unexpected visitors. Or rather, we _will_ have some unexpected visitors."

Alice took her kind thoughts of him back. Egotistical, haughty, crabby, annoying....she now added 'judgmental' and 'pessimistic' to her growing list. She took satisfaction in glaring him down, daring him to continue. Which he did, of course.

"And I know you have come here for advice," he paused, then added, "and an explanation." He tried to grin at himself assuredly, but his facial muscles could only manage a pathetic face-crump. His wisdom may be growing, but his life was diminishing, and no matter how much Alice detested him, she could not find satisfaction in knowing it. Wonderland would not be the same without him, and she admitted this to herself with an affectionate inward sigh.

"Sir," she decided to do this the right way – the respectful way, seeing as his days were now numbered, "apparently the Queendom is under threat by a band of creatures I cannot, nor could not, describe. Please advise me on the best course to take."

The Caterpillar chuckled at her dignified stance, seeing straight through it. It made Alice feel only a few inches tall.

"'Apparently' hardly merits the situation, Alice. It is a certain fact. I have felt it. Their power is so strong," and at this point he sighed, perhaps out of jealousy, or perhaps out of pain, "that even _I_ am affected by it. They have targeted me – to silence me of their approach. Do you see what they have done to me?"

He pulled at the skin on his face – which sagged down, and then gestured to the decaying mess that was the rest of his body.

"I would be alive and well if they did not use their powers to strike at me."

Alice frowned, not knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed. "So you're not dying? I mean, you are not dying of natural causes?"

The Caterpillar snorted enthusiastically, the first sign of real life and spirit on display. It was like a brief spark in darkness, though it disappeared just as quickly as it had come. "Me? Die? Nonsense. I cannot simply curl up and die – I'm _The_ _Caterpillar_." He said this as if who he was was reason enough, which, in actual fact, it probably was. He spoke his name with such reverence that Alice could not help but smile.

"But you are still, uh....because of them?" She did not want to say the word again, in case it should upset him.

"I will not _die_," he emphasized the word in Alice's face, "that is, if you stop them. You see now why I am so eager to help you."

"Are you?" Alice could not help but be skeptical. After all his teasing, cruel words and cryptic puzzles, she had to wonder if she had just been sent to catch her own tail – running around in circles while The Caterpillar watched and laughed.

"Of course I am, silly child!" The Caterpillar blew a haze of smoke into her face, making her cough vehemently, "why else would I be bothered to speak to someone like you if I was not?"

Alice frowned, but otherwise let it pass. She could not waste time arguing with the wretch, besides, in reality, she needed him. If the enemies had gone out of their way to attempt to silence the grand Caterpillar, then surely he must be useful to her. At the same time, that little bit of information troubled her. If they _were_ able to silence the grand Caterpillar himself, it also showed their capabilities, and at present, her chances were not looking good.

"Then can you explain the situation, sir?"

The Caterpillar looked at her in that peculiar way again, as if he were communicating to the depths of her. It made her uncomfortable, and left her rather mystified.

"The creatures you must face are unearthly," he explained in that deep, deep voice of his, "their powers are sublime, and their actions and knowledge astounding – and that's coming from someone like _me_."

This was not a comforting thought to Alice.

"They take their form in various ways, none of which can be described unless it is seen first hand. I, myself, have not even seen them take form," he sighed reluctantly as he confessed this trivial flaw, "they live deep within the mountains, as the legend says, but are power-hungry beasts. They crave for the crown, they crave for the land. They simply crave. They crave to use it as a carving block – so they can sink their claws into the soil and rake across it. They destroy. It's in their blood. They had been tamed to keep to themselves for generations, that is, until you came."

He now glared at Alice, as if she were the one ultimately responsible for everything – including his own suffering. She tried to avoid his hard, glass eyes by staring at the charcoal surface she was standing unsteadily on. She did not shift her gaze.

"They are traveling here – though the journey will take some time, even for creatures as themselves. They come to capture, and to turn the city into a haven for turmoil. They adore disruption. There are about thirty of them – all ranging in ability and size, and they are heading toward your castle. I have seen these things."

"Above all Alice, they are dangerous. More than dangerous – they are indestructible. None who have faced them have lived to tell the story. Think of the legend – so many died that day. They have abnormal power, and cannot be defeated with flimsy swords or spears. Death is their creator – it is their idol."

"What can we do?" Alice's voice was a hoarse whisper. Victoria was one thing...these _things_ were quite another. She thought about Abaddon's suggestion – an army. It seemed the practical thing to do, but would it stop them?

The Caterpillar stared at her for some moments, staring straight into the depths of her soul. She could literally feel his eyes burning into her stomach, her mind, her heart. Her own question repeated itself in her head, though she could not be sure whether they were her thoughts or the Caterpillar's.

"Nothing."

Nothing. The word bounced off every surface surrounding her, it caught itself in cobwebs in every hidden corner like ghosts.

Alice remained silent, his words burning into her hands. They could do nothing. For an immeasurable amount of time, Alice was drowning in her thoughts, all of which lead to her own death, the death of Wonderland. Nothing. They could do nothing.

"So we die?" Alice found words at last. To her surprise, her voice sounded mute. Acceptant. Defeated. It angered her briefly.

The Caterpillar said nothing, only watched her as she processed this information.

"Are you sure?" She could not help herself, but she had to make sure. Perhaps she had heard wrong, though the chances were unlikely. She knew all too well she had heard correctly, but she needed to hear it. The Caterpillar must have sensed this, or known this, or even foreseen this, so he nodded slightly to her.

"I cannot see you or Wonderland living through this, Alice," she felt one of the Caterpillar's wasting hands settle on her shoulder – the first kind gesture he had made toward her, "you can leave, you know. Nothing is stopping you. For me it is too late, but you can go. We will understand – you have a life ahead of you. You should go and enjoy it."

Alice could no longer see him, as her eyes had blurred slightly with the appearances of a few unwanted tears.

"I-" she had no words to finish. All she could to was stand, as she absorbed the fate of herself and her people. After an agonizingly painful moment, she spoke again, though this time her voice had attained some of it's former courage.

"I cannot leave," she stated firmly to The Caterpillar.

"Then die happy, Alice," he told her, his voice holding a level of compassion she had never heard from him before. Despite his detached comforting, she could feel the doom of everything near and dear to her settle on her shoulders like the weight of the world.

She nodded shakily and turned her back on him, determined to meet her fate.

**----------x---------x----------x----------**

**Dun Dun Dun**

***sigh* I just love drama...**

**:) Review?**

_**The usual thank-yous to the following amazing people**_

_**(if you ever see these people in the street salute them and give them cookies. Lots of cookies.)**_

_**aj-dreamer**_

_**SweenyToddLover26**_

_**The Mad Maiden**_

_**DangermouseDavs**_

_**James Birdsong**_

_**Artemis-Toxicity**_

_**Karinejoe**_

_**OceanFae**_

_**Verity Strange**_

_**steamboatwillie1928**_

_**;)**_


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm sort of in _Alice in Wonderland_ heaven right now.**

**You see, I just went and saw my school's production based on it (I ended up designing and painting the sets and such, 'cause I'm not good for much else) and was practically dying to see the Mad Hatter (so I could swoon and conveniently fall into his arms). Which is awkward because my school is an all-girls school.**

**Yeah, awkward. Shame, though.**

**But, I almost walked out when they had a 'thing' going on between the White Knight and Alice. **

**How do you get 'White Knight' from 'Mad Hatter'?**

**Seriously. **

**Nonetheless, it was awesome, and just in case you're interested (and even if you're not, I'll tell you anyway) the Cheshire Cat stole the show (also with her costume – it was AMAZING. I wish I had a purple top hat and waistcoat with knee-high leather boots to prance around in like a cat *sigh* ). So now I'm just about wetting my pants to write something dedicated to the Cheshire Cat. All in good time.**

**Oh, and sorry about this really long authors note. Just thought you'd like to know what's been cooking.**

**Oh yeah, and sorry if this chapter is a little short.**

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter Five**

**Planning**

"Nothing?"

Abaddon had repeated the statement several times, as if he were savoring it's flavor on his tongue. Alice could almost imagine him devouring the word whole, and watch on as he moved to devour everything left in his path. Edible or not, the flavor must not have been that wholesome, as his face had screwed up into a delinquent prune every time he tried it. Whether a flavor or a mere word, Abaddon could not bring himself to swallow it, and proceeded to spew it out of his mouth yet again.

"Nothing?" It was blown back again square into Alice's face.

Abaddon scoffed, his chest puffing out like a primal male bird. He squawked to himself, vehement in his denials, vehement in his words, and a vehement red shading his face. He continued to mutter to himself, head shaking about furiously as he paced up and down the halls of the palace. His pacing was not always rhythmic, or even straight, but by all means it rivaled the angry stalk of a cat.

"The Caterpillar is completely unreliable. Lost all sense of wisdom and sense for years now. Unbelievable. Absurd. Couldn't, wouldn't and certainly shouldn't trust him, even if my life depended on it. Ridiculous. All this talk of doom and the inability to act. Rubbish. If I were you, your majesty, I would forget every thing that that awful, would-be-butterfly said. He's clinically insane, you know."

"That's true, sir. But aren't you also?"

"What?" Abaddon looked startled, but otherwise held his chin perfectly level with the ground beneath him, as if he were balancing an invisible object on the tip of his nose. "Yes, I suppose I am."

Alice shrugged, not sure whether to hold this against him or not. In effect, it didn't seem to matter anymore. Her being constantly in the company of the mad only seemed like a mere trifle compared to the avalanche of misery that was pursuing her. She sighed, resigned.

"I'm sorry, but I just cannot doubt the legitimacy of the Caterpillar's words. You had to have _seen_ him..." Alice began, though unable to finish. Who knew when the Caterpillar's time would run out, though, at least she could be certain that her own time would fall short not too long after it. It was pointless to argue such a point any further – all efforts would be futile. What was there left but to sit and wait?

Perhaps sensing the glum direction of Alice's thoughts, Abaddon hesitantly lay one hand gently on her shoulder, giving it a firm, yet reassuring shake. He kept his hand there while he stared at the pattern on the floor. It was a friendly gesture, though Alice still wished the color in his cheeks would fade a little quicker. The warmth of his hand was by no means unpleasant, but then again, hell fire is just is just a sauna. Neither heard the approaching sound of foot-falls.

"Ahem," came a familiar half-cough-half-growl from behind them, "so sorry to interrupt this _touching_ moment, but I do believe the good sir can step aside to let the _real_ men through."

The Hatter stood there, his face twisted into a ridiculous expression that mirrored nothing but contempt and self-elevation. With his hands in his waist-coat pockets (that seemed to be filled with all sorts of things, as he seemed to have trouble fitting his hands in there), he marched up to them, as Alice and Abaddon stood close together.

The Hatter pushed roughly through them, making Abaddon's hand slam back down into his own side, even though there was ample space around them. Once free from the tangled mess, he twirled around and faced them both we cold solemnity The whole thing looked something very close to the standing arrangements at a wedding ceremony, the Hatter being the Priest. Abaddon watched him warily, as if the Hatter would pour hot tea on his head at any moment. It was humorous to Alice, to think that a man like Abaddon should ever be afraid of the Hatter.

Hatter cleared his throat dramatically, then began in a low, morbid voice determining their future.

"Do you, Alice Liddell, take Abaddon Whatever-his-last-name-is to be your lawfully wedded un-husband?" A complete mask devoured his face as he said this in his authoritative tone. All emotion seemed blanched from his face, he did not seem angry, or even interested. If anything, he looked bored.

Alice choked back something of a snort. "W-What?" She stammered, her eyes almost popping out of her head in utter disbelief. If she ever lived through this embarrassment, she would be sure to leave the Hatter with a few marks of his own.

"Good," the Hatter-Priest ignored her outburst, and took it as an answer as good as any he would get. He turned to Abaddon, his blank mask only falling slightly as he glared at the man for a split second. "Do you, Abba-something-like-that-I-can't-remember, take Alice Liddell to anywhere but here?"

Abaddon shrugged, not interested in the Hatter's games, though his eyes betrayed him. "I do," he commented dryly.

"You do what?" Hatter looked genuinely puzzled. He cocked his head to one side, as if observing some rare animal at the zoo.

Abaddon shrugged a second time, the bulk of his shoulders threatening to tumble off his body all together. "How should I know?"

"Well if you don't know, don't speak," Hatter snapped. "Now, where were we?"

"_We_ were having a conversation, till _you_ burst in," Abaddon poked him in the chest with a pointed finger.

"I was _interrupting_, was I?" Hatter sneered.

"No," Abaddon eventually blurted, sending moisture into the air.

"Good," Hatter nodded triumphantly, a brilliant smile brightening his morbid features,  
"because it would have been horribly awkward if I had to object when I'm the Priest. Mind you, I don't want to give out the impression I didn't enjoy being it, I just would have preferred to switch places with Ab-something. But no need to worry Alice, I would not have been so rude as to leave you rejected on the alter like this young man. Now that that's settled, let's have a spot of tea!"

Unable to think of anything but the bright pink she could feel burning over her face at his innocent, yet horridly blunt words, Alice simply nodded and stood her ground. She could feel the two men's presence like never before, and turned pinker. The humiliation – to have Abaddon hear all of that made her want to curl up into a ball and wait for the whole thing to wash over, preferably drowning the incident so it would never resurface. She felt a tingle in her wrist, and silenced it before she would actually hit the Hatter in the face. The idea was horribly inviting, after all.

---------------------

With the conference room dark, hidden deep in the twisting staircases of the castle, a long, oval table sat, it's stained mahogany giving off a red glow onto the chins of the table's occupants.

With Alice at the head, or perhaps seated at the end, Alice faced the assorted faces of those whom she did and did not know. Some faces were friendly, others impatient, and worse still others gleamed of bitterness. Taking in a deep, shaky breath, she addressed them firmly.

"So, let the planning begin."

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Sorry – this one was short, and not much to it.**

**It was a bit of a 'fill in' chapter – to give us all a break from the drama.**

**Next chapter, though, the _real_ adventure begins!**

**dun dun dun**

**(have I got you excited?)**

_**Thanks to the following:**_

_**(if the Queen of England ever ends up owing me any favors in the future, I'll get a public holiday named after all of you!)**_

_**DangermouseDavs**_

_**James Birdsong**_

_**LizzySkellington**_

_**Karinejoe**_

_**steamboatwillie1928**_

_**OceanFae**_

_**Artemis-Toxicity**_

_**aj-dreamer **_

**- Review? - **


	6. Chapter 6

**It is with great pleasure I give you the sixth installment!**

**Enjoy!**

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter Six**

**Magic**

The meeting had started tediously, and only went downhill from there.

The assorted faces gleamed at Alice, some even drifting to sleep as the time dragged on, while others found it a joy to argue whatever point was brought up, their harsh voices never ceasing to rise to a challenge. Alice had lost count of how many times she had lost control of the room, most of the times over the most trivial matters.

"Please pass the water, Gibson," a thin, gray-faced man had turned to his comrade, interrupting the discussions.

"I don't see how that affects the issues at hand. Please control yourself, Kip," Gibson, a thick, barely formed blubber of a man retorted, red-faced and red-handed.

"There is nothing wrong with my hand. I merely want a glass of water."

"What on earth would possess you to think _I_ have your water, Kip."

"Your hand is on the jug's handle."

"So obviously it is _my_ water."

"That's absurd, Gibson," Kip gestured madly in the air, demonstrating just how absurd it was.

"No, it's water. I'm sure of it," came Gibson's taught reply.

"How sure?"

"I'm eighteen percent sure."

"That's not very sure, Gibson."

"Perhaps, but I'm surer then you'll ever be, Kip."

"Why, you little..."

It was from this point on that other members joint in the argument, causing it, too, to tumble downhill. Alice scurried off her seat, anxious to find order.

"Order!" She cried, frantically pulling apart the two fighting men. Somehow, the squabbling group had formed themselves into a heap of limbs, feet, and even feathers.

"That's what I've been _trying_ to do for the past ten minutes, but the fool won't even hand me a glass of water!" Kip glared at Gibson, whose abnormally red face had reddened even further.

"Well if your shallow mind would stop drifting to the quizzical, perhaps we could actually find some way to end this meeting," Gibson cried in return, trying to yet again take a swipe at the thin man, only to fail for the umpteenth time.

"Let's just take a break, shall we? I feel we've been trapped in here long enough. I call for a fifteen-minute break for all to cool down," Alice decided, frazzled and anxious as the rest to escape the confining discussion room. Stupid idea for a room, that place was.

The various members filed our gratefully, feet lagging across the floor and eyes swollen and tired. Four hours had passed in that room, and still no decisions had been made. Everything was either too dangerous, or not dangerous enough. Their options had slowly dwindled to a bare minimum; that of either death, or slow death.

Things weren't looking so good.

Alice remained in the small room, head leaning back and arms folded. It was times like these that she often wondered how she had ended up here. A fall down a rabbit hole, a trip through a mirror, a walk through the trees, perhaps. But none seemed substantial enough to explain a situation like this.

It was as clear as day what she had to do, and it didn't take four hours locked in a room with thirty odd bits and ends to figure it out. She had two options, none of which she liked, and none of which she could escape. Her first option, one which she had disregarded as soon as it revealed itself, was to leave Wonderland. Leave Wonderland, go home, explain for the absence, eventually settle down, and never follow a rabbit, fall through a mirror, or walk amongst trees ever again, though the last requirement seemed a little far-fetched.

The second option was to stay. Stay in Wonderland, meet these creatures before they could meet her, destroy them (easier said then done), and live a long, eventful life on the throne, that is, _if_ she succeeded.

Unlikely.

But she was a dead girl anyway, so why not go down with a fight?

The only problem to the completely fallible plan was to work out _how_ to go about it. This was the reason why she had called the meeting, though one would think that after four hours of deliberating with the so-called Wise And Knowing Nobles, one would have an answer already, or at least some helpful information. Not so. So, as the members trickled back in after their break, Alice was determined to keep them locked in for days if she had to, till she had _something _from them.

"I heard they hate brussel sprouts," was the encouraging opening comment from one of the elder in attendance.

"Nonsense, they only say that for their image. They adore sprouts, and all kinds of vegetables," a bird-like creature countered.

"We should make some soup for them, as a peace offering. I'll be sure to put lots of pepper in it."

"Ridiculous. We should pour the soup over them instead, then watch them run away with their tail between their legs," Gibson chuckled darkly at the idea.

"They have tails?" Kip asked incredulously, a glass of water swaying merrily in one hand.

"It's a figure of speech," Alice sighed.

"She sounds dreamy," a small elf-like creature smiled to himself dreamily, head propped up in his two little hands, unaware of the strange looks he was receiving from his recent outburst.

"Who?" Alice was curious.

"Speech," he explained, the sparkle still twinkling in his eyes.

"What a figure, too," Gibson agreed with the same sort of reverence.

"I see," Alice nodded hastily, cutting off any further romantic outbursts that may have followed toward Speech.

"It doesn't matter now anyway," Kip sniffed affectedly, managing to squeeze his last bit of gossip in, "Speech has run off with Time."

"Scandalous," Gibson agreed, shaking his head solemnly while the rest of the room sighed in regret.

"Getting back to the topic," Alice steered, "do we have_ any_ other ideas on how these creatures can be fought?"

"Soup."

"Pepper."

"Chocolates."

"Flowers."

"Send them a postcard."

"No! One of those singing cards, I bet they would love that."

"Levitate them."

Alice blinked at the suggestion. "What?"

"Uh, levitate them, leave them in the air, then run away."

Alice sighed deeply. "Anything else we haven't considered?"

"Sing them a lullaby."

"Handcuff them."

"Make them sit through a chick-flick marathon. _Ultimate Torture_."

"Toy guns."

"Toy trains."

"Toy _soup_."

At that moment, much to Alice's relief, the door burst open, and a tangle of bodies stumbled in.

"Marriage!" A muffled voice cried, so disjointed Alice wasn't sure she had heard properly. The voice, however, was busy trying to disentangle himself from his comrade.

"_What_?" Alice clenched her fists. She had heard some ridiculous suggestions so far, but this one took the cake.

"Magic!" The voice was now clear, and Alice breathed a sigh of relief. That is, until she realized it was the Hatter who had stood up. "We need magic," he repeated.

Alice stared at him, mouth agape, till she chastised herself. Really, he had every right to barge into a private meeting. Alice recovered quickly, barely missing a beat.

"And what makes you so confident?" She questioned him sharply.

"Tea," he answered automatically, while the Hare stood grinning at his side, "and that fact that I've been doing a little research," he concluded proudly.

"Research? You?" Alice couldn't help but feel surprised.

Her suspicions were confirmed, though, when a familiar sheepish look crept onto his face, his cheeks coloring considerably. "Well, it was more like me asking The Caterpillar. But since it was on my intuitive, I would consider it research."

The Hare nodded enthusiastically next to him, agreeing completely, the grin still plastered to his face.

"And that's what The Caterpillar told you? We need magic?" Alice ventured.

"He said, and I quote, To defeat these torturous creatures you must harness within yourself a enlightened power to rival theirs, only then will you find victory within yourself, and within Wonderland. End quote."

"How did you get magic from _that_?" Alice was beginning to worry. Hopefully the Hatter wasn't just making this up, otherwise they might as well sit back and watch the show.

"Well he said all that before he said, In other words, find the skill of magic. Quote, unquote."

Alice raised one delicate brow. "Convenient."

The Hatter shrugged and gave a haughty smirk, fingering the lapels of his jacket as he did so. "I try to make a point of it."

"Keep trying," Alice couldn't help but mutter under her breath, her agitation still not entirely soothed. Then something very important dawned on her, and she slapped her forehead in surprise. "but how on earth do we accomplish this magic business? I'm certainly no Merlin."

"Darling, the day you turn into Merlin is the day I turn into Benjamin Button. So let's not worry," the Hatter comforted her gently, though he had no idea what he was speaking of.

Alice just sighed and shook it off. Things were seeming to get gloomier and gloomier, no hope was left. It was times like this when reason seemed so inviting, when logic could actually solve matters.

"You know there is a choice for you, don't you Alice?" The Hatter asked her seriously, oddly knowing the direction of her thoughts.

"Of course," Alice stood resolute, "and I've made my decision. I'm staying."

Hatter frowned down at her. "There's no shame in leaving, you know. Sometimes the wisest choice is to just walk away. No one would think any less of you. Besides, there's nothing left for you here."

"Nothing?" Alice asked quietly, that is, before she pulled him down and kissed him.

**----------x----------**

His words hadn't pleased her, that was for sure. Perhaps it was not so much his urging her to leave, or his lecturing on pride and the like that flared her temper. Oh no, that, she knew, was out of nothing more than concern. If anything, those aspects were welcome. But something had angered her, or shook her, or even awakened her.

_Besides, there's nothing left for you here._

So, in response, she did what anyone would have done when their anger was boiling and their values were questioned.

She kissed him.

It was short, but nonetheless to the point. Within a matter of seconds she had conveyed to him her message in short, hot breaths. A pleasant way to convey something, there is little doubt.

A small 'ahem' split them apart, only to face the Hare, who was still grinning, either from what had just happened, or it was merely the left-overs of his previous grin. Either way, it was painting a devastating blush over Alice's cheeks.

"Well, now that that has been taken care of," the Hare winked mischievously, "I think it's on to business."

"Yes, yes of course," Alice agreed a little too hastily, "let's continue, shall we?"

At this the Hatter smiled broadly, readying himself, until he realized that wasn't at all what she was referring to. His grin subsided gloomily. The Hare chuckled.

"Sure you must know _someone_ who can help us," came an agitated voice from deep within the room.

"Not the someone you're thinking of," the Hatter growled, impatient, "the Cheshire Cat is, shall we say, previously engaged." Unconsciously, he made his body stiffen a little, a joke only the Hare cackled at.

"Engaged elsewhere? For how long?" Came another surprised voice. Alice looked up. It was Gibson.

"Are you serious?" The Hare asked, his voice blatantly dead-pan. "Have you even been here for the past few months? The Cheshire Cat, as far as anyone here is concerned, is nothing more than a garden ornament until, well, we figure this mess out."

There was a reluctant sigh from Kip. "And to think, the only one with any certain amount of established magic is currently scaring away crows from the vegetable patch-"

"I'm sorry," Alice started, looking up and listening hard, "what do you mean about the Cheshire Cat? He was magical?"

"Technically speaking, _everyone _here is magical, as long as your definition of the word remains broad. It was just the Cheshire Cat who had practiced it masterfully. For goodness sake, how could you not realize? He was a talking, disappearing cat for crying out loud. _Of course_ their was something more to him," broke out Gibson impatiently.

"Hatter," Alice turned to him, grasping onto his arm as if for dear life. "We _need_ to fix that darn cat," she whispered to him fervently.

Hatter looked slightly taken aback. But then again, dire circumstances call for, well, anything. He merely nodded in reply, then rushed out of the poky room, dragging a reluctant Hare along with him.

**----------x---------x---------x---------**

**Is there a greater power than that of nonsense?**

**I doubt it.**

**Ha! Told you all the Cheshire Cat would be coming back with a vengeance!**

**updates will be soon :)**

**p.s. If you're a fan of 'A Very Potter Musical' please quote it in a review (hint hint), and if you haven't seen it, then you haven't LIVED. Seriously, youtube it. I've been shamelessly obsessed.**

_**Thanks to the following reviewers **_

_**(one day, I'm going to make sure your faces are all on postage stamps, because you guys are TOTALLY AWESOME):**_

**_AnimeMixDJ - thank you so much!_**

**_megumisakura - tee hee, well, here it is!_**

**_Animemaniagirl - yeah, who could kill off such a wonderful character?! Long live the Hatter!_**

**_The Lady Massacre - ha ha, can't let out any particulars, but of course it'll always be Hatter and Alice. *swoons*_**

**_OceanFae - Thanks! Hatter IS awesome!_**

**_CandidCommotion - thank you so much! cant wait to hear more from your fic!_**

**_aj-dreamer - OMGOSH, the best compliment ever! yeah, 'abba-something' (lol) can be a bit creeepy_**

**_Artemis-Toxicity - lol, thanks! 'Funny' is my middle name!!! (cough)_**

**_James Birdsong - thanks, public holidays all round, mate! _**

**_Sarah - thankyou! Yeah, I own that book - loved it! good to see we have same taste (great minds think alike, right?!!?) :)_**

**_steamboatwillie1928 - *gasp* shines in reverence! the pocket hatter is happy! MY LIFE IS COMPLETE!!! lmao, school auditions are terrible things they are!_**

**_LizzySkellington - yeah, i could never let him get in the way of the Hatter. A little healthy competition, though, would be interesting... (not that theres competition against the Hatter!!!)_**

**Review?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Finally: An update!**

**Enjoy chapter seven! (please)**

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter Seven**

**S.C.P and the Curious Map**

The problem of 'That Darn Cat,' as Alice had so eloquently referred to it, was a predicament not easily sorted. The main concern of all involved was very simple, yet as immovable as a brick wall. The concern was this: How does one turn a stone-like cat into it's original form, without causing harm?

How, indeed.

Many tactics were considered, and barely any actually put to trial. Of course there were the standard explanations given, such as finding a potion to reverse the affects, researching magic and finding the answer in some book or ancient proverb, making dull conversation with the said cat, and even possibly using a hammer to _force_ the darn cat out, even if the results should be disastrous. It did not take long for Alice to discover that the Cheshire Cat had few friends, and even fewer allies. On the other hand, a large ensemble seemed overjoyed at the prospect of their favorite cat finding himself in the middle of a trial-and-error process. Alice treaded lightly around the eager crowd, unwilling to simply apply whatever explanation seemed valid.

Long days were spent in the palace's expansive library, both by Alice and her companions, chewing through history, science, _The Cat Lover's Guide To All Things Fishy_, legends and, finally, magic. The library itself would have been enough to shatter poor Cheshire's immobile body; with shelves and shelves of thick, musty books in languages Alice had never heard of, seen or spoken, chairs so deep many men were lost in their cushioned depths, and an archaic ceiling so high a thin veil of fog gathered around it, shrouding the place in mystery, along with it's contents. Alice could only suppose they had been the first visitors in many, many years.

It was here, in the massive library, that Alice found herself alone, hidden behind a thick volume after almost two weeks of finding absolutely nothing. Time was running short, and she now took to reading her way through the night, only stopping for a break now and again, while the others searched high and low elsewhere. Dusk had descended upon the land, and she lit a small, yellow oil lamp to give her specific corner a warm glow.

She scanned her way through the moth-eaten pages, sometimes flipping chapters at a time, and sometimes reading a volume from start to finish. Prior to this, Alice had always believed herself to be an avid reader, but now even the sight of the books surrounding her made her head ache. Not even _her_ curiosity made the task of sorting through the entire library an enjoyable one, instead, she fancied herself willing to give up the cat and go destroy something. The first thing on her list was the enormous library, and she would withhold no mercy. For a few moments, she let her mind wander, entertaining herself with particularly nasty thoughts centered around the innocent book that lay idly in her lap.

Sighing, and coming to the conclusion that all her fantasies were virtually impossible, a thin, loose sheet of brown, faded paper caught her eye, wedged in between page 764 and 765 of _The History of Dirt: An Unauthorized Biography_. Curious, she caught the weak paper between her thumb and forefinger, determined to bring no harm to the already near-crumbling sheet. Tentatively, it slid out and settled itself in front of her eyes.Eager, Alice read the paper:

_Shopping List_

_(the grocers have the best prices, I think)_

_Lemons_

_Sugar_

_Bread_

_Coffee_

_Milk_

_Socks (three?)_

_S.C.P_

_Pancake mixture_

_More Lemons_

Alice frowned then grumbled, unimpressed by the had-been promising note. It was nothing more than a Grandmother's petty shopping list, complete with the queer floral scent that all Grandmother's seemed capable of writing with. Grumbling under her breath yet again, Alice prepared to scrunch the list up when she suddenly caught sight of the back. Flipping it over gently, she was face-to-face with something she had not quite expected to be on the back of an elderly woman's listed groceries:

A map.

A _big_ map.

A big, _detailed_ map.

Alice stared at her unexpected discovery for a few seconds, as if unsure of what to do with it. Finally, she managed to send her head forward, bending over to inspect the map closely.

Studying the strange image hard, Alice concluded that she had no idea of what location the map was meant to represent. The image drew a large square, with what seemed like hundreds of horizontal, vertical and diagonal lines crossing inside of it. Every now and again it would form an oddly shaped rectangle, square or triangle, complete with tiny, flowing hand writing depicting what it was next to it. Though the writing was much too small to make out by naked eye, it was no doubt acting as a label. Frowning at the picture, she could not make out what bothered her by it's innocent presence. Was it it's obvious antiquity that worried her? Was she frightened of accidentally destroying perhaps a priceless artifact, which the map may very well be? Was it the size, or even the implication? No explanation seemed reasonable. Carefully pocketing it away in the protective folds of her dress, Alice decided it should be spared for later examination. Perhaps when her mind cleared later, she would be able to find her answers.

Alice excited the library, no longer interested in reading her way through the remaining books. The map feeling heavy and dangerous in her pocket, she crossed the grand halls at alarming speed, either out of excitement or fear. Which one, even she was not sure.

She came to a halt outside a sturdy, iron door, where an odd conversation was being held between the exact people she was looking for. Feeling uncharacteristically reckless after her discovery, she pressed her ear to the door.

"I'll wager you," came the confident voice of the Hare, whom Alice still had no idea as to how he managed to slip into the castle, "in three months all your tea will run out."

"Nonsense," countered the Hatter stubbornly, "my tea has no taste for exercise. Besides, tea _must _be present in three moths time; for it will be your unbirthday."

"Indeed!" Gibson's voice was thick and low, rumbling joyously through the small room, "I'll have you know it is _my_ unbirthday _today_."

There came through the door an assortment of various gasps and congratulations to Alice's ear, making her smile.

"And what sign were you born under, Gibson?" The Hatter inquired civilly.

"_Slippery When Wet_, and you?"

"_No Entry_," the Hatter told him, slightly embarrassed.

"Don't worry, chap," was Kip's jovial reply, "I believe the former Queen of Heart's sign was _Danger_. Can't do much worse now, can you?"

This was greeted by an assortment of chuckles, and strangely enough a longing sigh.

"Wish I was born under a sign."

"Oh, stop fussing Hare. If you like, we'll assign you a sign," Hatter seemed only too pleased to play diplomat, Alice judged by his tone of voice.

"Really?"

"Of course, excellent notion, Hatter! Now, what _shall_ we give him?" Alice could only imaging Gibson rubbing his hands together in glee.

"_Exit_?"

"_Stop_?"

"_Enter At Own Risk_?"

"_70k p/h_?"

"_Mens room._"

" Ladies _room._"

"Ridiculous! I say _Beware_."

"_Ducks Crossing_," Alice suggested, finally stepping into the room.

"I love it!" Cried the Hare with a certain girlish delight, tossing his paws up into the air.

"Excellent," Alice joined them at the table, ignoring the seat at the head to which she was usually appointed.

"Tell me, please," Alice began as she reached for the map in her concealed pocket. "If any of you are able to tell me anything about this map."

Letting the paper lie in the center of the old oak table, she watched as four curious faces peered at it, some leaning forward in their comfortable chairs to get a closer look. A silence stretched, though none were bothered by it, instead, all four's attention was settled on the map in front of them, inspecting it and silently questioning it, while Alice silently watched them and their diverse reactions.

Kip's reaction had been fairly standard. Only leaning in to glance at it, he inspected out of curiosity, though nothing more. With a detached, nonchalant look on his pale, extremely thin face, he merely followed the map's lines with his eyes, glancing up and around every now and again, as if bored.

The Hare reacted similarly, though without Kip's hinted superiority. His fur twitched only slightly as he inspected the paper, though that could have easily been Alice's imagining. Perhaps sensing her gaze, he looked up and grinned a goofy grin at her, before softly remarking:

"You smell like lemons, dear."

Gibson, on the other hand, snorted at seeing the paper. Crossing his thick, red arms he huffed and rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair, only watching the paper from under his lashes, his curiosity getting the better of him. He mumbled to himself about 'thousands floating around,' and 'silly girls who think.'

Hatter, who Alice could not help but watch intently, seemed to physically jerk away from the paper, his face paling. Without so much as a prolonged glance at the curious map, he stared straight up at Alice, as if trying to determine what she already knew about the affair. She could feel his eyes burning holes into her, and quickly averted her gaze, feeling unnerved.

After a few more silent minutes, Hatter spoke up quietly, his voice barely heard.

"Where did you find this?"

Alice raised her chin, though for some strange reason, she had a strange impulse to lie. Unable to shake it off, she succumbed to the strange, new feeling. "It was given to me," she replied confidently.

"By whom?" His voice was a little too sharp.

After a moments hesitation, she answered him with the same perfect confidence. "The Caterpillar."

"When?"

"Just now."

"You left the castle, _unsupervised_, in this time of danger?" His voice was turning more and more into a raging growl.

"Yes, I did," Alice replied with not so much as a blink. "And I don't see how that concerns you. Last time I checked, I was Queen."

"A Queen without any notion of self-preservation."

"I'm alive," Alice replied, tiring of the argument. Why hadn't she just told the truth?

"Next time, you may not be so lucky," he bit, a storm brewing in his eyes.

Alice made no reply, only snatched the map off the table, and headed directly for the door.

"Wait!" The Hare called. Something in his voice made Alice do just that, though she turned around wearily.

"What's that on the back of it?" He asked, tilting his head, trying to see the strange list.

"What? This?" Alice handed it to him, only too glad to be rid of it. "It's just an old shopping list. Nothing special."

But his eyes were sparkling as he read through the list aloud, and for a wild moment Alice wondered if he had written the list all those years ago.

"...coffee...milk...socks...S.C.P," Hare's eyed grew very large at this, almost popping out of his head, he stopped and double-checked himself. "_S.C.P_?"

"Es see pea?" Kip repeated, thoroughly confused. "Who is Es?"

"No. _S.C.P_," Hare corrected hastily.

"Oh," Kip nodded knowingly, his voice reverences the letters as if they were an ancient king. "_S.C.P_."

"What? What does S.C.P stand for?" Alice asked, her brows furrowed.

"Solitary Conversion Particles," the Hare explained. "No wonder I was thrown off by the silly old map, we needed The Shopping List." Something about the way he said it made it seem as if it belonged in capitals.

"The Shopping List? We don't need the mysterious map, but the shopping list?" Alice cried incredulously.

"Not 'the shopping list,'" Hare corrected her gently, "_The_ Shopping List."

Alice could only shake her head in bewilderment. If the map meant nothing, why had the Hatter reacted so? It didn't seem to add up. Alice tried to persist the point again with the Hare.

"But surely the map may be of _some_ use. Please, consider it again!"

The Hare flipped the paper over irritably, two shiny front teeth poking out as he examined the map once again. He clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly, though his words came out in a jumbled rush.

"No use! No use! Look at it; this place isn't even _in_ Wonderland, I bet," he snapped, and Alice paled upon hearing the words. "Look, look how straight and boring! Not in Wonderland, I tell you! Pointless scrap of rubbish it is. I'd throw it out right now if it hadn't been for the back!"

And that was it; that was what had troubled Alice when she first saw the map. Ir was no wonder she did not recognize it then; her mind was only thing of Wonderland, only considering Wonderland. She couldn't understand how she wasn't able to see it earlier. It was London. A strange map of London in the Wonderland library. Alice couldn't bring herself to believe it.

She took it straight from the Hare's loose grasp, and bolted out the door, not caring for the first time since her coronation whether she looked graceless or a fool for doing so; all she needed was a quiet, secluded spot where she could ponder this over. Somewhere away from the hustle and bustle of her usual companions, somewhere where a former Londoner could contemplate London.

--------------------

Sitting outside the castle walls, in a rare patch of shade, leaning against an old, accommodating tree who had kindly ceased his conversation with the birds to give her some peace and quiet, Alice stared down intently at the map in her hands, and what she saw made her stomach turn unpleasantly.

London. The straight, narrow streets. The commonplace. London. The gray. The old. The map. She turned the paper, this way and that, upside down and sideways, wondering if this could be it. Frowning, she inspecting the article closely, but nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at her. It looked just the same as the many other London maps she had studied in her time. Sighing, she reluctantly settled it down on the grass beside her. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, after all. It now seemed it had nothing to do with the answer she was looking for, or even gave a shred of information about the Cheshire Cat. Her brow furrowed deeply as she felt her heart sag. She was so sure – so sure that she had been close to an answer, she had almost felt it. And now she was back to square one, with nothing at all for Wonderland, nothing to save it.

At that moment, the blistering sun chose to sting Wonderland with her rays, and Alice jumped as she tried to shade her face with her hand. Eyes squinting, something flashed beside her, just seen through the corner of her eye. Turning her head sharply, she watched the map, mouth agape, as a new image seemed to overlap the old in the direct sunlight.

Cautiously picking it up, holding it out more into the light, the overlaying image became clearer.

A map of Wonderland now appeared fully under the map of London.

It looked almost three dimensional, and Alice could do nothing but stare, her mind already reeling with possibilities as to what this new revelation could mean.

Perhaps there was hope after all.

**----------x---------x---------x---------**

**I liked writing this chapter. Hoped you liked reading it, too!**

_**I hereby give the following people free oxygen (yippee) for their kind reviews:**_

_**Karinejoe**_

_**steamboatwillie1928**_

_**aj-dreamer**_

_**Artemis-Toxicity**_

_**AnimeMixDJ**_

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_**IBurnUnicorns**_

_**lovelyarisu**_

_**5arahZ0ey**_

_**OceanFae**_

_**LizzySkellington**_

_**Have an awesome week :D**_


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm so sorry for the long wait! please, don't hurt meeeee!!!!**

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter Eight**

**A Beating Heart**

Following common logic (if such a thing were to ever truly exist in Wonderland in the purest sense of the word), it could only be reasoned that the map - like an uncannily large percent of all other maps in the world - had been designed to lead somewhere.

Besides, all maps lead to a destination; a place. It is what maps do best; what they are made for. Who would ever consider using a map for anything else? The truth of the matter is that the map is, and always will be a map.

Unfortunately for her, Alice found that out of all the maps that could have ever fallen in or out of her possession, it was _this_ one that seemed to rebel against traditional mapping heritage. It was _this_ one that lay next to useless. It was _this_ one that seemed good for nothing more than staring out at the passing world, mocking passerby's as they tried to read it, all, of course, to no avail.

Oh, the irony.

In the strictest manner of speaking, there was nothing technically _wrong_ with the map. On the other hand, there was nothing exactly _right_ about it either. In all fairness to it, it displayed all the common, necessary features of a map: lines, blocks, roads, labels (as miniscule and maddening as they were), shapes and markers. However, from what she could gather, it was becoming apparent that this map, this conniving, horrid, failure-of-a-map, was simply incapable of giving direction, destination. There was no where to go according to the fading ink – no guide to be brought towards, no purpose in its crumpled edges.

But then, the miracle had occurred.

The minute the finely drawn world of Wonderland appeared underneath the painstakingly dull roads and blocks of London, the ink slowly spreading, filling the paper with an eerie effect was the minute Alice allowed herself to breathe again. For the first few minutes of the strange new arrival, she could only manage to stare straight back at the paper as if it had grown a head and tail.

Gathering her wits, or rather, what she had left of them, a tentative finger edged toward the surface of the page. Controlling her breathing, as if a missed beat would destroy the miracle, she felt a tremor of anxiety bubble forth in her stomach. Finger inches from brushing the surface, she recognized the feeling. Instinctively she knew, nothing good would come of this. The realization troubled her, but she brushed it aside impatiently.

Repelling fear as best she could, she pushed her forefinger onto the page, and then, into it.

It was like testing water. At first, her finger tingled as she could feel the slight bumps of the roads and buildings of London. Skimming over the surface, as if ice skating across a dangerously thin lake; she knew it would take very little strength to be able to dive deeper into the map. Pushing her finger down further, it descended into the map lying underneath – Wonderland. The page was still the same – thin as any average sheet of parchment, yet her entire finger was _just_ visible as the tip was finally able to brush against and feel the details of Wonderland. Looking down at the sheet, it looked (and felt) as if her finger had submerged itself into thick, dark yellow water.

Studying the image hard, as if it were a priceless artifact (and it was at this point Alice _did_ consider the age of the item), she could see two things clearly. Her finger swimming in the depths of the paper, her eyes chasing it, the first point was caught under the tip of her forefinger, where the two worlds perfectly aligned.

It could now be seen, after years of idle wondering, every single entrance to the world she now found herself in from London. One was currently being scrutinized.

Her finger still firmly set on a certain rabbit hole, close to a small square that clearly represented some sort of fine estate, she could have sworn she saw a blotchy ink drawing of a little girl tumble in head-first. She blinked rapidly, but the girl was gone. A trick of the eye – or mind – she was sure. Labeled elegantly with cursive writing as 'The White Rabbit ', she read on further, squinting as she did so, as under the title was a list of tiny names:

Marcus Thompson, 1765

Jane Lawson, 1799

Burris Gibbornship, 1834

Kenneth Ipwald, 1852

Alice Liddell, 1889

Thompson? Lawson? She was sure she had never heard of the names before. Well, Thompson, perhaps – it was fairly common, after all, but she would have remembered if a child by that name disappeared off the face of the earth. Or by lesser degree, London.

Kenneth Ipwald, though? A strange name, though no match surely for _Burris Gibbornship_. She wondered idly why those names seemed so familiar. It was true; she did not have many childhood friends to play with but her cats. So if they had not been former play mates, what were they to her? Alice sounded the names on her tongue, but nothing extraordinary happened, which was ironic, seeing that she half-expected yet another miraculous discovery out in the sunshine. Perhaps she had read them in a paper once, or had heard of them, but other than that she was forced to disown any knowledge of the child pair. Her mind must be playing tricks – again.

That, however, was only one of the details that caught Alice's eye.

The second still lay submerged some place between the fall from London to Wonderland, glittering in the sunshine like a glass splinter.

It was a tiny thing, but the vivid red of the miniature stone made it impossible to overlook. It seemed to move slightly now and again as well; though it wasn't till Alice dared to poke it that she discovered it was pulsing, beating as it drifted on the spot.

Still staring at the tiny thing, revulsion took over in mere seconds.

She had finally realized, that somewhere between London and the twisted world underneath, the Red Queen's heart was pulsing.

Alice's mind buzzed with the information. Could it possibly mean – even in these wild circumstances – after all that had happened that the Red Queen was still alive?

Alice could not decided whether to feel joy or dread, so instead a strange mixture of something like anticipation and nerves flooded her stomach.

Was it wishful thinking to suppose the former Queen may provide some counsel, some advice, some answer?

Hope, as it seemed, was no mere fantasy anymore.

In addition to that, the map had also saved itself from the prospect of suffering a slow and painful destruction in the furnace.

----------x----------x----------x----------

"Pack supplies!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Inform the civilians!"

"Of course, ma'am."

"Saddle the horses!"

"Ma'am, they're _Rocking_ Horses, for the last time: _Rocking horses_."

Alice ducked her head self-consciously. "Ah-yes, of course. Sorry. _Rocking_ Horses."

"Very good, ma'am," the gruff-looking maid, who resembled more man than woman, smirked at Alice shamelessly. "Anything else?"

Alice hesitated, though not for long. "No, not really. Just be sure to summon only those who wish to come. I don't want to drag fifty men across with me."

"I'll send the army back then, shall I?"

Alice paled noticeably. "Army? You called The Guard?"

"Well it's procedure, ma'am. Red Queen wrote it, she did: What To Do When Wonderland And It's Creatures Are Threatened By Extinction, Natural disasters, New Policy Decisions And Bath-time. Calling The Guard was one of the requirements," the maid told her wisely.

"Requirement_s_? What other requirements were there?" Alice dared to ask.

"Oh, you know: high alert calls, magical protection, trade and business closing down. I'm not kidding you, ma'am – bath-time's been are real issue in the past."

"I see," Alice stumbled rather faintly.

The maid gave her what was meant to be a reassuring smile, though it looked more like a grimace on the haggard face.

"And when will you be back, ma'am?" The maid asked.

"What? Oh. Hopefully, when this _business_ has been settled once and for all," Alice concluded gloomily, staring out at the setting sun as the last of the supplies were hauled onto one of three wagons.

"And if it isn't?"

Alice shrugged, suddenly feeling more tired than she had ever felt in her short life. She turned away slightly from the maid, an action the maid took as a dismissal. In truth, Alice only wanted to gaze at the sun setting fully, though she was glad for the loss of company. Now she could gaze and frown and sigh as much as she pleased, without the danger of being labeled as pessimistic. Her solitary, however, was short lived.

Kip and Gibson came thudding into view, carrying the last of their own possessions in separate rucksacks. Silhouettes against the setting sun, the added bags made them look at least two times bigger.

"Kip!"

"Yeah," Kip replied Gibson, the heavy sack leaving his shoulders to be thrown onto the back of a wagon.

"Did you pack all that's necessary?" Gibson bellowed, although he was standing right next to his friend.

Kip's face reddened, not at all unlike the way Gibson's often did. "Of course! Why do you ask something like that?"

"Because – hmph – your…flaming sack weighs…twice as much as I do!" With a final _hmph_ and another _huh_, Gibson hauled them sack off his own back, sending it flying through the air and only just landing on the cart.

"What in the name of pants was in there?" Gibson demanded of Kip, their faces finally matching the same reddish hue.

"Socks, toothbrush, soap-" here Gibson rolled his eyes, "-an extra jacket, the cat-"

"You have a cat? Since when?" Gibson thundered.

"Not _my_ cat, you fool. My cat's still-" he cut himself off here upon seeing Alice, and started another sentence hastily. "It's The Cheshire Cat."

"What?"

Kip shrugged his shoulders at Gibson, nonplussed. "Hatter wanted him with us. His orders, not mine." Both he and Gibson stole a glance at Alice, one they thought she hadn't seen.

"That's ridiculous," Gibson's red face went a shade darker, "carting that useless thing around when-"

"We ready? Are we all packed?"

Gibson was unceremoniously cut short as the Hatter's voice cut through. He strolled toward the two men, though glanced at Alice who was a little way away. She knew why – he had not, after all, approved of the plans. His permanent scowl was proof of that.

Alice, The Hatter, Gibson, Kip, joined shortly by Abaddon all piled into the wagons in pairs. Alice joined Kip, whose face was starting to regain some of its usual colour. Hatter, after glaring at Abaddon for what seemed like a lifetime, joined Gibson in the second wagon, while Abaddon trailed behind, moody and resentful at the back on his own. With a jolt, the wagons began to creak forward in jerky motions, which is to be expecting, if you are being pulled by _Rocking_ Horses.

"Where to first?" Abaddon called from the back of the small line, his voice clear over the creaking and whining of the horses. Alice heard the impatience in it.

She consulted the map for what seemed like the hundredth time that day and twisted in her seat to call back.

"West: we are going to see The Red Queen."

----------x----------x----------x----------

***tentatively pokes out head***

**am I cleared of charges???**

**p.s. and sorry some of the quotation marks were stuffed up. my computer decided it hated me today.**


	9. Chapter 9

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter Nine**

**Of Knights and Tweedles**

West they went.

And West, it seemed, was no more picturesque than East, North or South. After a short while traveling along the road at a slow, awkward pace, the scenery turned dull and flat. Dull and flat, that is, if you did not take well to low plains and hot winds. The unusual weather conditions that gripped the West seemed to have made a permanent impact on the surrounding area; the once green grasses were burnt to a faint yellow blush across the dirt, and cacti grew in conventional places, spread out evenly and precisely, as if someone had planted them there with meticulous care. Alice was sure, at one stage, they would be pulled over and harassed by a crowd of cowboys or even Indians, then released only to witness a dust bunny rolling idly across the road.

The journey was undoubtedly going to be a long one.

"Been this way before, Alice?" Kip asked conversationally, holding the reigns of the Rocking Horses tight between his two bony fingers. They were the fingers of a witch, Alice thought gloomily; bony, white and long.

Alice shook her head, then answered when she realized he wouldn't have been able to see the action, what with his eyes fixed keenly on the road ahead. "No, never," she said.

"Don't blame you," Kip nodded wisely, his pointy chin seeming to stick itself in the hollow of his neck with every head jolt, "it's not pretty 'round these parts. Used to be, though. Lots of pretty stuff, you know. Grass, flowers..." Kip trailed off, his experience of landscape obviously limited. He cleared his throat noisily and went on after a short while, though. "But as you can see it's now burnt to a crisp. Or a chip. Whichever you prefer." He shrugged his shoulder unceremoniously and gave the reigns a flick. The Rocking Horses sped up only marginally.

"Why is that?" Alice asked, leaning forward to get a better views of the crumbling road passing beneath their feet.

"Oh, you know," Kip answered vaguely, then seemed to realize his error. He glanced at Alice from the side and began again. "The Knights used to keep the place lookin' swell – keen gardeners, they were. Had a Green Thumb I could only dream of. But with the diminishing numbers it's hard to keep a hold of the place, and you can now see the result. Who are left of the Arms have given up, I suppose, which is a shame. I was always a little partial to flowers, you know." Kip concluded glumly, mourning the Knights or the loss of flowers Alice could not tell.

"But it's not so bad for 'em anyway, I hear," Kip brightened considerably, as if he had a switch one could flick on and off at will. "from what I hear the White Knight's got himself a nice little set up. Multi-story. Spa," Kip sighed dreamily, "a place to put his feet up in style, I should imagine. Wish we could all do with a little of that, you know? Well, I guess you would. Palace, isn't it? The place you've got?"

"I suppose so," Alice tried to shrug it off unsuccessfully.

"Hm," Kip mused thoughtfully, his chin in the air, "a palace. Nice."

"It's not all it seems," Alice tried to urge him, oddly panicky for some reason she couldn't understand, "I-I mean it's pretty, and I'm very grateful. But marble and stone doesn't have the same effect of a small cottage in the woods."

"It would get lonely, too, in such a big place, I would think," Kip smiled kindly, helping her over her collapsed protest.

"Well," Alice hesitated, not feeling inclined to tread down the path this conversation would surely lead them, "yes."

"Yes," Kip nodded thoughtfully, a small smile on his grey face. "I know it would. Lucky you have friends who always come 'round. They care for you, you know." He told her this like it was a great secret, his smile still plastered in place.

Alice tried to ignore the eyes she could feel boring into her back at this stage, and made herself nod compliantly. "I know it."

"Good," Kip settled himself back into the board that acted as their shared bench more comfortably, satisfied to no end.

Alice would ignore the double-meaning she was sure was present in that little lecture, and instead, kept her eyes steady on the flat road ahead, not even letting her breathing betray her.

Calm.

In control, she told herself.

I am in control, she repeated in her mind.

I am calm. I will stop making such a big deal-

_Thump._

Alice jolted in her seat as the whole carriage rocked with some new added weight. Beside her, of course, the Hatter had somehow managed to seat himself, squeezed in between Kip and Alice with a manic grin on his face.

The man, you couldn't deny, had talent.

In a freaky, appear-out-of-nowhere sort of way.

Alice grimaced.

"I wasn't interrupting, was I?" Was his friendly greeting, though the grin now seemed to be a permanent thing etched into his face.

"Oh no," Kip smiled back at him, ever the friend of all, "we were just talking about you."

Alice's grimace deepened, and it too now seemed a permanent feature.

"You were?" One of Hatter's eyebrows lifted, almost disappearing beneath the brim of his obnoxiously large hat. Obnoxiously, characteristically, miraculously, _incredibly_ large hat. He glanced stealthily under a rim of lashes.

"We were?" Alice repeated.

"In a way," Kip shrugged easily. "I don't really pay attention to _who_ we talk about. Just _what_ we talk about."

"How comforting," Alice murmured, then added more clearly, tactfully steering off topic. "I'm not sure how long we'll be on this road for, it could be days for all I know."

Hatter bent his head down to look at the map that lay on her lap, his hat, miraculously, stayed put on his head. It was a mystery Alice was surprised to find herself quite interested in. She vowed to test it out one day. It was while she was mentally compiling a list of objects she could try to use to dislodge the hat that the Hatter spoke.

"Not days. Hours, at most. We're getting closer. When you travel West Time goes quicker."

This caught Alice's attention. "Why is that?" She asked curiously.

Hatter sat up straighter, in a fashion that reminded Alice of an impatient school teacher instructing his pupils. The resemblance alarmed Alice, to say the least. "Look around you. What do you see?" Hatter stretched out his hand to gesture toward 'around'.

Alice blinked. "Nothing?" It came out sounding more like a question than a statement. It seemed she was fulfilling role of pupil quite well, too.

"Exactly," Hatter clapped his hands joyously, as if the discovery of this fact was a very rare thing. "Imagine how fast Time can travel in a flat expanse, with nothing in it's way to hinder it, in comparison to Central Wonderland. There's enough shops, houses, trees for Time to create twenty-four hours a day there! Here, there is only seven, at most."

"I see," Alice conceded, not quite willing it to be true.

Hatter looked out pensively at the surrounding landscape, his eyes alarmingly distant. It seemed an age till he spoke, and when he did, his voice was uncharacteristically soft. "I remember this place before it became like this."

Alice nodded, not willing to meet those ghostly eyes. "I heard from Kip. He said something about the Knights caring for it. But no longer," her voice, strangely enough, seemed to mirror his on it's own accord.

Hatter made a small scoffing noise, though it could have easily been a cough. "Yes," he had performed another one of his one-hundred-and-eighty mood-swings, his voice now brittle and bitter, "I wonder what they would think when the saw their West toady. Or what they would _do_, would be more like it."

Alice now met his heavy glare curiously, unfazed now by his rapid mood changes – they only seemed to increase as his health deteriorated. "What do you mean?"

He glanced now at Alice, as if noticing her beside him for the first time. "You mean you don't know?"

"Know what?"

"This is Tweedle country now. The Knights were driven out, a miraculous feat for two buckle-heads like the Tweedles. They had help, though, mind you. We're hoping to pass through unnoticed. The Tweedles do not take kindly to passer-throughs. Innocent, or not."

"Why? What will they do?"

"What _won't_ they do is more like it."

Alice paled, first through an unexpected wave of fright, then a quick swell of anger. "And why hasn't anyone told me this till now? I've knowingly led us into danger! We could have just gone around!"

Hatter looked puzzled, a rare expression for his usually cocky face. "Abaddon instructed us through here. We thought he was leading under your orders."

"Abaddon?" Alice growled to no one in particular.

Kip, now, decided to pipe up. "Yeah, Abaddon. He's the one that told us to come through here."

Alice risked a glance backwards, eying the last wagon. Abaddon sat perched quite alone, a mistake Alice had now only come to realize.

"Oh no," she breathed.

"What?" Kip whispered.

"He's alone."

Hatter now, too, glanced backwards. "That's not good."

"Why not?" Kip asked.

"Are you crazy?" Hatter ignored the reply Kip was about to make, and Alice feared for an affirmative. "It means he could scoot away, unharmed, anytime he likes. He could be up to anything back there, leading us right into a trap-"

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Alice hastily advised. "Someone just go back there with him and keep an eye on him. He's pushed his luck, and our trust," she turned to the Hatter. "You – you can go there. You know how to just appear out of nowhere, can you do it again?"

"I'm not going anywhere near the creep," Hatter growled stubbornly, his hat, for once, tempted to topple of his heated head.

"I'll go," Kip relented, carefully passing the reigns to Hatter as he shifted acrobatically in his seat, "I'll jump on top of this thing, jump to Gibson, then to Abaddon: It's full proof."

'Full proof' seemed far from the best way to describe the act, yet Alice nodded. It was the best they had. Well, not quite the best. The best option currently was seated stubbornly at the driving side of the wagon, his large hat swaying in the high winds.

"Uh, Alice," the Hatter's wary voice halted her giving Kip a leg-up onto the roof of the wagon.

"What is it?" she hazarded a glance at him over her shoulder.

"Bad news," Hatter confessed, leaning forward as if trying to distinguish something in the plain scenery. A second passed.

"Tweedles," Hatter confirmed, his eyes squinting against the last of the setting sun, "right ahead."

"Hurry," was her only instruction as she hoisted Kip onto the roof.

----------x----------x----------x----------

**the following reviewers must be praised to the skies for their awesome words – those words give me happy feelings inside:**

**LizzySkellington**

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	10. Chapter 10

**I am so ashamed! it's been waaaay too long since the last update! I'll make it up to you - I promise! (cookies, anyone?)….**

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter Ten**

**The Tweedles**

Hatter hurried.

His hurrying didn't sit well with him, though; he found no good reason to meet up with _those_ things any sooner.

Thankfully, they were still only two small smudged charcoal figures in the distance; four, if you counted their enormous shadows. And those shadows could perform their own nasty work - ask anyone.

Despite the lengthy distance separating the two parties, it was evaporating quickly, whether by some jolt of inexplicable speed on the Rocking Horses part, or the Tweedles' own inexplicable desire for conflict. Either would have been acceptable reasons, had it not been for the fear that was eating away at the small traveling band's minds.

Their fear was rational, after all: named Tweedles grew outstandingly quick from the word 'weed,' and, as many wise folk stories and camp-fire legends have ceremoniously concluded, weeds choke the garden dry and barren.

A little like the country-side they were traveling through now.

"Good Evening!" A booming voice echoed towards the wagons, the source unquestionable.

"Yes," agreed a softer voice, though no less dogmatic, "welcome to our humble abode!"

Voice projection, it seemed, were just one of the Tweedles' many talents. Alice squinted against the backdrop toward their smaller figures, their hands gesticulating dramatically through the air.

"I'm so glad you've come!" The first voice continued.

"Nay, _I _am so glad you've come! You see – I've been rather glum," the second contradicted.

"Since there's been no play, I've been idle all day!"

"Visitors have been scarce, yet we've cleaned up the mess-"

"Just think – new friends! To you, my brother tends-"

"It's true; we've earned a bad repute – yet the point is still moot-"

"No matter _how_ delighted we are-"

"To receive guests from _so_ far-"

"We do hope you'll not be _too_ disappointed-"

"When our civilities will be…re-appointed-"

"And it will all come to an end-"

"For you, our dear friend-"

"So please don't make a fuss-"

"It'll only be harder on us-"

"It will be quick, to be sure-"

"So don't scream 'till you're raw-"

"Enough!" Alice called out to the wind. Somehow, during the strange procession, the two figures had disappeared into the night, leaving only their shadows and voices in their wake.

"Yes! Show yourselves, cowards!" Abaddon screamed out to the darkened sky, his hands rose toward the heavens as if they were sharpened knives, able to cut through the canny stars.

Stars only shone brighter in response.

Silence eased down in them like a thick blanket; intensify the noises of the night. Strange insects began their ritual calls; an exotic mix of subtle chirps and odd groans adorned the cold winds, floating about them and tangling themselves in invisible cobwebs.

The small party left their wagons and formed a loose circle, all facing outwards. Keen, sharp eyes, and then some scanned the surrounding area – from the tall dark grasses that danced to the adorned evening sky. As the silence wore on, the atmosphere electrified.

"What now?" A hoarse whisper, possibly Gibson – or even Kip with a head cold – finally sounded tentatively.

A few moments of tense, debating silence ensued.

"We wait," Alice replied eventually in an equal whisper, as if heavy exhalation would mean certain death. The option, with no doubt, was a certain possibility.

The winds picked up again, and the group shivered in unison; jelly on a plate.

"Wait? Out here?" Everyone's thoughts were announced by Abaddon, his courage left or misplaced by the wagon's bench, apparently. Try as he may, he could not conceal the slight quiver in his voice.

"Well if it weren't for you we would be _out here_ in the first place!" Hatter's angry retort came. His voice, strained and uneasy, was quintessential for the small band's mindset.

"You're blaming _me_?" Abaddon was incredulous. "What did _I_ do?"

Hatter had his fingers out and ready to count, promising a surplus of ten by wriggling his toes. "Where would you like me to begin?"

"Hang your opinions, Hatter!" Abaddon cried, risking a glance over his shoulder at the offending man in question. "You're just-" Abaddon waved his hand about in the air, trying to catch the end of his sentence, "you're just jealous."

"Me?" Now Hatter matched Abaddon's incredulous tone from moments before. "Jealous of _what _exactly?"

"My good looks," Abaddon supplied promptly. He may have even given a slight flick of the hair to prove his point. Alice could feel Kip by her shoulder shudder slightly.

"I don't think this is the time-" Alice began, but was rudely cut off by Hatter.

"Your good looks?" Hatter cried. "_Your _good looks? Your _good looks_? Sir, my lone hat stands five times handsomer – if not plenty more - than your pitiful face. It is, after all, the finest hat in all of Wonderland!"

"And the finest ego to match," Gibson snickered to Kip beside him.

"Bicker, bicker, bicker," chorused two voices hanging above their heads, imitating perfectly the tone of a scolding parent. And Alice was quite familiar with that particular tone.

"It's all they ever do," the voices continued, bordering the fine line of breaking out into musical song.

"If only they had run," a cruel laugh broke out between the two voices.

"They could have-" and here the voices halted briefly, stuck without a suitable rhyme. Hatter almost felt rather sorry for them. It would be a hard thing to leave a perfectly good rhyme half-finished, and he sympathized.

"Show yourselves," Abaddon called out again to the voices, eyes searching for their material bodies, a while after he was certain their rhyme had, indeed, faltered and permanently crashed.

"Impossible," the louder voice boomed, though there was no doubting the insincere amusement hidden in it's folds.

"Quite," agreed the voice's brother, with what Alice could only imagine as an invisible head-nod.

"Our voices have a mind of their own, you see," the booming voice started again, in certain rhythm, obviously trying to redeem himself after his rather unfortunate brain-freeze. Or rather, voice-freeze.

"Just like our shadows, floating in the breeze," finished the other voice, the pride in his voice blatantly evident.

"I understand," Alice cleared her throat and addressed the breeze passing over their heads, no longer sure where the voices sprung from. By now it seemed as though the words surrounded them – echoed through them. She had difficulty telling up from down. "That we are encroaching on your personal territory."

"That is very, very, very, very true my dear," the voices responded almost gallantly in eerie unison.

"If you will forgive us then for our foolish mistake, we will head back and go around," Alice called out confidently. Surely if she sounded certain enough they would be beguiled enough to afford at least a moments hesitation on their part?

"No," both voices responded promptly, without missing a beat.

"You are needed," the quieter voice sung, his voice swirling around them, swallowing them, as the winds of the night picked up.

"Needed for what?" Kip asked nervously.

"S.C.P" The voices clarified with an unhealthy giggle.

**Forgiveness? or must I go to confession (shudder)?**

**I'll try and get the next chapter up ASAP!!!**

**ps. confused about S.C.P? Refer back to chapter 7 ;)**

**Reviews make my heart sing and dance and skip and buy waaay too many crayons. you know you want to push the button. Give into your desiiiiiirrreeesss!!!**


	11. Chapter 11

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter Eleven**

**Slaves**

"Solitary Conversion Particles" Hatter confirmed in that quiet voice Alice never quite knew what to make of. It bothered her to no end, not being able to work out something about him. She had always prided herself on shrewdness and quick wit, yet at times he made her feel slower than Abaddon himself.

Alice remembered and needed no reminding this time, though. Solitary Conversion Particles. Something small and jumpy at the back of her mind began to wriggle. A map, but no – it wasn't a map. It was on the back of the map, it was a-

"I see you must have found our shopping list. How extraordinary," the Tweedles' had heard Hatter despite the volume, and his voice did seem to reflect his astonishment. It held a far way quality, not dissimilar to that of Hatter's. What it exactly meant, though, was the unmoving conundrum to Alice.

"What are these Particles?" Gibson asked, still suspicious, though Alice could not blame him. If he felt the same way whenever those mystical twins spoke – like she was drowning in the middle of a dry, burn out country – he had every right to be wary; just as she was.

"They are located right-" at this point all five of the small party felt a cool breeze press against their foreheads, then painfully push its way through their skin to lap over their brains "-here." A collective painful yelp was sounded at the unexpected sensation by all. There it was, the breeze and freezing cold wind of the night, pushing and manipulating against them, feeling the outer-skirts of their brains. An uneasiness settled into the pits of their stomachs.

"S.P.C is what we need most at the moment, and it crowds around your little heads, or rather, _inside_ your little heads as if there were a garden party in progress," the softer of the Tweedles giggled.

"What good is it to you?" Alice questioned coldly.

There was a short pause. "It feeds our most valuable treasure," the Tweedles spoke in unison, as they did when the answer was rehearsed or obvious, Alice had guessed.

"Which is?" She prompted.

"Too much talking, not enough abstracting," a very close voice suddenly sounded behind her ear. Now, she could feel the warm breath of air and a solid, warm presence.

She spun around to find a very, very, very tall man, and then another, almost identical if not for their differently colored bowler hats. Each dressed bizarre, or at least, stranger than the usual chaos most Wonderlanders adorned themselves with. It was a cross between a suit and a clown's ruffle, a medieval gown and jester's costume, a cape and a mushroom. There faces were the only thing that was bland, like a child had taken a pencil and drawn two dots, a vertical line, and then a horizontal line. Alice, again, felt horrible disorientated. It seemed to be the common emotion that was associated with the twins.

"Perhaps we could come to a bargain," Alice managed to choke out.

"Why ever would we do that? You already have what we want most."

Alice considered, trying to appear calm and rational while internally her mind raced with ideas, escape routes and a strange mix of martial arts and tap-dancing. Wonderland, apparently, was taking its toll.

"How could you know? We may have something even more desirable than S.P.C," Hatter chimed in, anxious to keep talking and _not_ start extracting. The very idea of it made his toes curl, quiver and tap.

"Like what?" The voices nearly laughed at the absurdity of the idea.

Another pause came around, though this was by all means far lengthier. "How about the Queen of Wonderland?" Abaddon asked off-handedly, as if offering a spot of herbal tea. Hatter, at least, found the resemblance gratifying. His stomach growled.

"I assume you mean the girl, then," said the Tweedle in the red bowler, his head inclined only slightly to Alice.

Alice could do nothing; only stare back at the two men helplessly.

"We give you her in exchange for our freedom," Abaddon explained, his expression still meticulously off-hand. He only flinched slightly at Hatter's uproar to his left.

"_Give_ them Alice? Give _them_ Alice? Give them _Alice_?!" His hands up in the air may have knocked his hat off, yet by some strange anti-gravity law that applied exclusively to Hatter himself, it remained perched perfectly on his head.

"Would you except?" Abaddon ignored Hatter beside him as best he could while he stared down the two twins. His stare had little impact, though, as the over-sized people only regarded him back humorously, like a parent would watch a misbehaving toddler.

After a lengthy pause that seemed to multiply for all, the yellow bowler Tweedle spoke. "A Queen's S.P.C is no different to a commoner's. The more of you we have, the better. You are a fool, young soldier. We have no mercy, as you will soon be well aware."

And like that, they were on them, except they hadn't moved. The Tweedles stood in front of them, arms moving swiftly about as if conducting an orchestra; a dark, life-threatening orchestra. Dark shadows of men swooped down from beneath the yellowed grasses and gripped them by the neck, cold sensations gripping all as the shadow's grip tightened on their skin. The Tweedles' mouths began to move rapidly, yet the voices hung above their ears, rasping promises of pain and mutilation. The voices sped up, and the words began to slur into one constant note of certain death, destruction, failure.

"We can give you more than energy for the heart," a voice from among the five rasped out, managing to struggle against the life-threatening pull for only a moment. Still, the moment was long enough. Alice craned her neck against the thick shadow's limb and was surprised to see Kip, his mouth still half-open from uttering the last word. Immediately, the arms around their necks simultaneously slackened.

The Tweedles said nothing, yet the curiosity in their beady eyes was evident. Curiosity, it now occurred to Alice, was the common downfall of all those in Wonderland. Including herself. She filed this away carefully next to the Hatter's quiet, musical voice and her numerous other non-tangible possessions.

"We were on our way there," Kip was still breathless, his words coming through a series of sharp pants. "We-we saw it on the map. Why ever you're feeding it we don't know, but we may be able to help."

The Tweedles didn't even glance at each other, but still, Alice had the niggling feeling they were debating heatedly between themselves. A pair of eyes would sharpen, the others would plead, and the wind around them would pick up then slow. To be honest, it was their strange power over the evening wind that frightened her most. Man was dangerous, true; but nature held undiscovered strength and vivacity that could knock carefully built civilizations off their feet.

"Perhaps you should share what the aim of this little expedition is," the Tweedle with the yellow bowler stated easily, lazily. While red-hatted Tweedle was by all means the more imposing and dogmatic of the two, it was yellow-hatted Alice realized she must watch out for. He held a shrewd eye and almost charismatic confidence that left him with the upper hand. Alice wondered if he saw many things surrounding them that others would have disregarded without so much as a moments thought.

She was startled to find that all eyes had turned on her, waiting for an answer.

Torn between telling the truth or out-right lying, she settled for a happy-medium; enough truth to gain their trust, and enough falsehood to save themselves should they be betrayed.

"Wonderland is in danger, we believe whatever or whoever it is your feeding may provide some sort of direction." There, simple enough without too many fabrications. Evasiveness was the key, without appearing so.

"In danger from what? Wonderland can hold its own. _I_ can hold my own." The Tweedle with the red-bowler furrowed his brow expectantly. His fists clenched happily and Alice imagined him imaging himself knocking the danger out dry. If only it were that simple.

"We know that the danger is real, and very, very close. Nothing like it has been seen before," Hatter supplied, his eyes searching around as if trying to be the first to spot it.

Another silent argument between the two Tweedles ensued, and the wind around them picked up horribly. Alice was sure she had lost at least two of her toes when they finally ceased their internal bickering and faced the small group.

"We agree to go with you, and you will live _for now_-" here all involved in the would-be-slaughter let out their breath happily, no matter the implications, "-yet you will accompany _us_ for the rest of the journey as our slaves."

"What?!" Abaddon let out an outraged gasp, his face the same red as Gibson's often is.

"This is non-negotiable. Unless, of course, you would like to proceed with the former course of action…" The yellow-hatted Tweedle smiled slightly at the thought.

Abaddon seemed to seriously consider the option.

"Let's get on with it then, shall we?" Kip gritted out through clenched teeth. "Time is getting ahead of us."

"She's a good four miles up the road, I'd wager," Hatter chirped in, the new situation not seeming to bother him at all. He was that kind of man, Alice thought; the kind that would be happy with anything, as long as the air was still passing through his lungs.

"What is _that_?" A Tweedle poked reproachfully at the large, covered lump that sat perched on the back of the nearest wagon. Alice didn't remember how he had traveled there so fast, and wasn't in the mood to question it. Not now.

"Cat," said Gibson, one hand waving theatrically in the air to demonstrate the meaning of the small, furry mammal.

"You brought a cat?" The red-hatted Tweedle questioned incredulously. Now that they were officially their slaves, the Tweedles seemed to be far more willing to talk. Alice wondered if they were truly that bad as they made themselves out to be. Surely some human instinct survived under that mass of hatred and bloodshed.

"Can I kill it?" Red hat spoke abruptly, eyeing the lump hungrily.

Apparently not.

"No!" All five cried out in unison, creating the same eerie effect that the two Tweedles had whenever they spoke together.

"It's not any cat, its The Cat," Kip even managed to create invisible capital letters with his voice. It was a skill Alice made a note of to develop within herself later.

Capital letters installed, the meaning behind the statement and creature combined made the Tweedles 'oh' together, understanding.

If that darn cat ever woke up, Alice promised herself, she would be sure to ask it what it had done to ever receive the respect of the notorious Tweedles, and everyone else for that manner. Wherever she went, she only seemed to make more and more enemies; an annoying habit, at best.

Alice was interrupted in her thoughts by witnessing one of the strangest things.

The two Tweedles, stepping away from the group had vanished further into the wide paddock, the long, yellow grasses reaching mid-thigh around them. They were waving their hands about in the dark, randomly and indecisively at first, till a pattern emerged, and their movements became more planned, more reverential.

The grasses below them began to bend farther down from the harsher winds, yet no strong currents reached the small band. Instead, it concentrated purely on circling the two brothers, their hands picking up speed and momentum as the wind around them swirled to create a mini tornado, with them standing straight in the centre of it.

The sky above the Tweedles darkened noticeably, adorned with streaks of dark purple and flushes of crimson red. It was a terrifyingly beautiful picture, and Alice felt a strong stab in her stomach as it reminded her of the night she had lay next to Hatter on pebbly ground, watching the stars above them not dissimilar to this spectacle now.

Their hands were moving so fast now their hands blurred, and Alice jumped when she felt two warm hands tighten on her own shoulders. She didn't turn, though. She could already feel his hot breath on her neck.

"What's happening?" Was all she could ask.

Hatter was silent for a few moments, then his warm breath came out in torrents as he answered her, his chin hovering above her ear.

"They are thanking the Knight Wind, as they always do."

"The Knight Wind?" She whispered, feeling very much like a parrot.

Hatter tapped his fingers on her shoulders for a few beats, as if lost in some internal tune she could neither hear nor comprehend. "The Tweedles took everything from the Knights; this land, these stars, this air, even their lives. They took it when it had been home to the Knights for thousands of years. They reduced the race to all that they can be now; spirits driving in the winds, hanging in the breeze. This is their daily apology. Their daily repentance. They do this every night."

"But why? If they took it from them in the first place…" Alice trailed off, because his grip on her shoulders had slackened, as if disappointed with her answer, or lack of understanding. She couldn't help but feel hurt.

Hatter sighed, and it tickled her neck. He sighed like an old man; heavy and hard and long, not sighing in pain or fury or disbelief, but in resignation and defeat, knowing he is too old to change things now. His chance has come and gone. His sigh held so much, it was hard for Alice to even comprehend.

"Many people do things they regret," was his answer.

"Do you?" The question had come out before Alice could stop herself, and while the sky and the wind continued their display she felt him step away from her slightly, and she feared his answer.

"Of course."

Alice sighed to herself and Hatter thought it sounded very much like the sigh of an old woman, and he felt hope for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime. They were all slaves to something.

Or someone.

**What do you think? **

**Any theories?**

**You all know how much I love theories…**

**tell me, children, tell me**

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	12. Chapter 12

**I am so sorry for the delay! I've just started my last year in high school (is it called the sophomore year in America?) and the teachers decided since I was an innocent looking kid, hey, lets order a truck and get it to dump all these papers on her – that'll be just dandy!**

_**Not**_** dandy.**

**So I hope you'll forgive me**

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter Twelve**

**Fight**

She had a job to do.

And because of this, she would not glance.

She would not look.

She would not, under any circumstances, stare.

She would not spend her time trying to discern what every tiny gesture he made exactly meant.

She would in no way spend hours trying to find hidden meanings in every sentence he uttered or any glance he afforded her, no matter how meaningful they seemed.

And just because they were trudging down the clay and stone road side by side, chained like the slaves they were at present, she would absolutely in no way take the opportunity to talk to him.

Because she was Queen.

Because she was Alice.

Because she had a job to do.

"Hatter," Alice addressed the man walking next to her in the best carefree manner she could afford, since her internal cheer-squad had so obviously failed. "The Tweedles?"

"What of them?" Hatter returned, eyes burning into the backs in front of them.

"What do you know about them?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a quick look as if to assert that she, indeed, would be the one he would be answering to. The Tweedles in question were a long way up, riding happily on the wagon's sturdy benches while the rest trailed behind like cattle at a slow, awkward pace.

"They're ignorant, ugly, tea-blubbering fools entirely incapable of compassion," he spat out angrily.

Alice was slightly taken aback. Her brow furrowed as she asked: "Why do you say that?"

Hatter looked directly at her now and raised his hands in the air, shaking the shackles around his wrist as an answer. He grumpily looked ahead and stomped on, risking the patience of the two ignorant, ugly, tea-blubbering fools. Alice had to bite back a laugh, because to her amusement, the description sounded suspiciously a lot like her own first impressions of a certain hat-wearing gentleman.

"You don't like them?" Alice only half-asked, more than a little sure of the answer.

The shackles around Hatter's wrist jingled menacingly again.

"Of course not, they're two ignorant, ugly, tea-blubbering foo-_wait!_" Hatter cried, almost stopping in his tracks had it not been for the chain pulling him forward, "what do you mean _don't you like them_? Do _you_?" His voice has climbed so high it almost delivered itself as a squeak, obvious incredulity in his tone.

Alice hesitated, and then decided there was no real democratic answer. "Well, no, not really-"

"There you have it," Hatter cried again – a growing pattern – his hands only half-raised triumphantly in the air, as it was as far as they could go. He seemed a little put-out by this, so he settled for an exaggerated bow; still extremely awkward in chains.

"What _are_ you doing?" Alice hazarded.

Since it had become apparent to Hatter that Alice had absolutely _no_ appreciation or education for theatrics, he let it go, and disguised the action as scooping up a pebble from beneath his foot.

"Nothing," Hatter replied with what he hoped looked like nonchalance. He tossed the pebble in the air, up and down, and from hand to hand, back and forth. It was distracting.

"What was that?" He asked, realizing Alice had spoken while he was, for lack of a better phrase, distracted by the pebble.

"I said Kip has been worrying me," Alice sighed while repeating herself, making the words far more difficult to distinguish than before.

"Yes," Hatter nodded wisely, his chin bobbing up and down rapidly, "he worries me too."

"Really?"

He let out a sigh that Alice took as a confirmation. "Yes," he then verified verbally, "_far_ too skinny, that chap."

Trying to decide whether to ignore that or press the matter further, Alice decided either option would not lead her to getting anything useful out of him, so she left it at that. Perhaps she would be able to reason it out on her own, even though her very own thoughts seemed to be mixing and evolving with each passing day. Why did logic thought no longer seem like logic thought? Did she even ever possess such a power? From trailing in chains as Queen next to a quite literally Mad Hatter, enslaved by two twins with a fetish for morbid slaughter, it looked unlikely.

After a long moment, to her surprise, Hatter spoke.

"If you insinuated earlier that Kip seems to know more than the average citizen, than yes - I agree you should be worried about Kip, or at the very least, give the poor man some cream-cakes – he's thinning away as we speak!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Alice scolded in a low voice. "He's always been like that."

But looking at him, only a little in front of them, he _did_ look like he had thinned to paper – the man was surely all bone. She wondered if he had been born like that – little Kip, struggling and crying, delivered into Wonderland the size of a twig. The image the thought brought made her stomach churn, and to her chagrin, Kip turned at that moment and offered a brief smile as he caught her staring. She could only manage a grimace in return.

"I think his weight is the least of our concerns at present-" Alice began, and it was here Hatter raised his hands and shook the chains as proof of her statement, "-I think he knows more about our destination than he has let on."

"You _think_ or you _know_?" Hatter interrogated, for reasons beyond Alice.

"Both, I believe."

"Ah," Hatter pointed his index finger in the air, and from there was able to look up and find his next words, "so you _believe_."

He smiled happily at her, allowing her to pass the test she had no idea she had sat.

"I _believe_?" Her eyebrows knitted together.

"You believe," he confirmed, nothing short of a triumphant expression on his face.

There was a short pause, until Alice coughed lightly into her sleeve.

"I see," she murmured, not really seeing at all.

Hatter just smirked, and Alice immediately felt uncomfortable with such an expression to be sitting on Hatter's face. It was a little like watching a duck swim in lava, and she could feel disastrous results for the duck fast approaching.

"No matter whether I believe or know or think, the fact of the matter remains unchanged," Alice told him severely, feeling annoyed at him for catching her so off guard.

"Of course it remains unchanged; it's a fact. Facts are facts," he pressed on, unperturbed.

Alice just waited, knowing more was coming. It would be better to wait for something slightly coherent to latch onto before replying.

"But is what you may believe or know or think a fact?" He waved his hand expressively through the air, gesticulating enormously throughout the entire ceremony of words.

"Er," Alice managed, no wanting to reply, yet not wanting to be so rude as to ignore him altogether. 'Er' seemed like an appropriate course to take.

"Er?" Hatter raised a brow, not so much patronizing her as he was studying her.

"Er," Alice confirmed.

"I see," he muttered, not really seeing at all.

Alice felt proud for the first time in a very, _very_ long time.

----------x----------x----------x----------

"Are we there _yet_?" Gibson cried out dramatically for the eighteenth time, unbeknownst to him setting a childhood trend to succeed him many years to come.

"_No!_" The yellow-hatted Tweedle returned equally dramatically, also unbeknownst to him setting a parental trend that would stick for unforeseen generations to come.

Gibson snarled to the ground, his face smeared with dust and mud from two days of traveling on foot. He was certain he had lost half his weight already, but looking down, he still could not see those darn toes. He sighed to himself. It was going to be another hard day.

"How much further, then?" Kip called to their _masters_ ahead of them. He was just as wrecked as the man beside him, which happened to be Gibson. The only difference was, Kip could see his toes.

"Another 'alf hour, I'd say," the red-hatted Tweedle called back, even his voice sounding a little worse-for-wear. He was consulting the map Alice had found, and whenever he was not, it was folded neatly and placed carefully in his back pocket, which the small band had learnt was a great privilege for any of his possessions.

In his back pocket he only kept the map, a small, concealed bottle of what they assumed was S.P.C, and a sharp blade. It was a wonder how his pocket could fit it all.

"Half an hour?" Gibson whistled approvingly. "Not bad. About time, though."

The Tweedles said nothing, though their excitement was beginning to show in small, subtle ways; a hurried step, an exchanged grin, a straighter posture. Alice only hoped it was for the reasons she thought it was. Otherwise, they were all in trouble.

"I wonder what she's been doing there all this time," Hatter mused aloud, his chin raised thoughtfully to the morning sky, as if it would provide the answer in a cloud formation. And perhaps it would – Alice had no idea what to expect anymore.

"Who?" Alice asked, though the answer was obvious. It was one of those things she felt compelled to ask, to keep his musings going. She had come to rely heavily on those jumbled thoughts of his the past two days.

"The Red Queen," Hatter replied instantly, perhaps sensing Alice's intentions. "The Queen of Hearts – whatever you would like to call her. I wonder what she's been doing – and how she's got to be involved with the Tweedles."

Alice thought for a moment, and then inclined her head in Abaddon's direction.

"You would think certain people would be more excited at the prospect of seeing her, no matter what condition we may find her in," Alice sighed, "a little odd, don't you think?"

And it was odd. Abaddon trudged along unwillingly with the rest of them, his face downcast and his feet reluctant. With the thick chains looped around his hands and feet, he looked like the only one truly suited for the part of slave. He walked the walk of a dejected man.

Hatter gave a large, cheerful grin. It spread from ear to ear in a way that would have made the Cheshire Cat mad with jealousy. "Think I should go cheer him up?" He suggested innocently, eyes glinting.

"No!" Alice protested quickly, "no,no,no – that won't be necessary, I'm sure."

Hatter frowned.

Then the frown disappeared.

"Hey look," he urged, "look over there."

Alice's eyes followed the direction his finger was pointing, and she did indeed look.

There it was; she was certain – the Red Queen. Just a few miles away, at the top of a yellowing hill sat a cottage, haloed by the sun in a yellow glow. A large tree that closely resembled an oak towered over it, its leaves turning from green to yellow to burnt gold in a continuous cycle as they fell in disarray onto the straw roof. Small billows of smoke sprung from a small, red-brick chimney. The sky above it was exclusively blue, and Alice suspected it would stay as much all year-round.

It was gorgeous.

It was perfect.

It was _far_ too easy.

"Wait!" Kip cried as the Tweedles continued onwards, dragging the rest behind them toward the cozy cottage. "Wait! No, it's a trap!"

But Kip was too late.

The moment the Tweedles simultaneously stepped across the dying grass onto the green, fresh lawn, stepped from under the dark, moody sky to under the clear, bright blue the scene around them shimmered like a pebble tossed into a pond.

The mirage faded quickly, and after a moment's hesitation, the scene changed entirely.

Standing before them, as the last of the homely mirage faded and trickled to the ground in a small rainfall, a small band of dark creatures stood facing them, ugly and twisted. Behind them was a canyon, ugly and twisted. But most importantly, standing deep within the centre of the canyon, floating slightly above a polished pedestal, was a red, bloody, beating heart.

The Red Queen's heart.

And so the first of the fight was to begin.

----------x----------x----------x----------

**GASP (my impression of shock/excitement/pure boredom)**

**hopefully it won't take me so long to update next time!**

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	13. Chapter 13

**Wow! It's been ages since I've last updated, but there's a silver lining: I've updated now, **_**and**_** I'm half-way through writing the next chapter!**

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**----------x----------x----------x----------**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Winners and Losers**

They stood there, the creatures, staring intently at the small band of Wonderland inhabitants as if torn between mocking them or simply destroying them. Perhaps they were calculating a way to achieve both ends at the same time.

They were dark creatures; in complexion, in persona, in their very existence. Their bodies and faces twisted and turned around their bones, skin like the roots of the Willow Tree, caressing the forms until they slithered up to the top of their heads. They snarled unattractively, twigged fingers flexing.

"_Lovely_," muttered Gibson, examining the creatures warily.

Before any form of battle could be unleashed, Alice hoped she may at least feel a way for a peaceful resolve. Since her ideas were scarce, she resorted to the basics.

"Good day," Alice called over to them, her expression questioning the actual goodness of the day.

The creatures made no response to her wary call, only continued to survey what was before them with callous greed. They stood so close together they appeared to be a giant shadow, textured and lumped as they covered the land.

"We come in peace," Alice added hastily, perhaps out of habit. It wasn't until a few seconds later that she realized the falseness of her statement. If they came in peace they would be retreating undoubtedly soon, yet here they were – ready to fight _if_ necessary.

The 'if,' of course, was entirely interchangeable with 'when.'

In turn, of course, 'when' was entirely interchangeable with 'now.'

The creatures seemed to realize the irony of her statement, too, and began to cackle unhealthily in unison. The unnaturally high-pitched melody echoed, seemingly tangled and struggling in spider webs and eardrums.

"Don't waste your breath, pitiful girl" a horrid voice scratched between chortles. "For you won't have it for long!"

"Who is your superior?" Alice cried out to them, ignoring the imminent threats. "Who is it that you answer to?"

The group chuckled again – a sound far from soothing. Again, the same voice rang out from within the shadowed mass.

"Our superior? Take your pick!" It cackled. "We are neither democracy nor dictatorship."

"Then why are you doing this?" Alice questioned. Wealth? Fame? Pride? Rulership? Or was it the simple lust for blood that drew them forward? In the end, she knew, it would hardly matter; if things continued as they did, they would have no choice but to fight these horrible creatures, their motives and history long forgotten.

In answer, a lone creature stepped out of the shadowed mass, hunched over and breathing heavily, although it's chest barely seemed to move at the effort it was so obviously exerting. Perhaps their lungs were located elsewhere, or maybe even absent from their lanky bodies altogether.

"It is simple, pitiful girl: we side with the winner. We always do," it told her gravely, though mirth danced in the yellowed eyes. It spoke with confidence and clarity, as if he was already sure of the ultimate future for the universe. The observation unnerved Alice.

"You side with us?" She hazarded, already doubting that the creature's outspoken confidence would emerge from her sides' winning.

"No," it told her flatly, perhaps sensing her intentions. "We side with the winner," it added ominously. "The weak side with their morals, the arrogant with their conscience; but the clever – the clever side with the winners. We assure our own survival. Call us scavengers, weak, amoral, vultures; yet we are the ones that survive unscathed in the end."

_No_, Alice thought disbelievingly, _it couldn't possibly_. How would such creatures be able to know the results of a battle before it even began? Assuming it to be possible, would it mean they already knew how her reign would turn out? Could they already see her victory or defeat painted across her forehead?

The creature grinned knowingly at her as she mused, it's eyes glazed over.

"Go on."

Alice started. "What?"

"Ask it," it clarified, something close to a grin spreading across it's face like a deadly virus. "They all do. I can s_mell_ you thinking about it. So go on, ask me."

She feigned ignorance. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean." She twisted her hands together nervously, as if trying to tear her fingers off and pocket them for safekeeping.

It began to cackle then – uncontrollably. It doubled over and clutched at what it had left for a stomach, salt streaming from the wrinkled edges of it's eyes. "Ah, all this amusement will be the death of me. The smell of your lie is profound, it's almost palatable even from all the way over here."

It sniffed luxuriantly then, chest brooding as it filled it's lungs – the first proof she was able to tell of the organs existence - a content smile stretching it's distorted face.

"They all ask it, you know," it said conversationally, a hint of nostalgia visible in it's glazed eyes. "They all want to know if they're going to win, going to loose. If they're going to die, or live; survive or perish, perish painfully." It smiled at her then, and that in itself made her quiver, though it's next words made her feel as though she were about to buckle at the knees out of disgust. It took a deep breath of appreciation. "Your curiosity is the sweetest I've tasted in _years_. So, go on; ask."

She shook her head vehemently, not trusting the capabilities of her voice.

"No?" it prodded, crestfallen. "Are you sure? I can still taste it, you know." It's tone was laced with condescension.

"No. I have no desire to know."

It was silent for a small moment, as if tasting the words she had spoken, checking for the flavours of a lie.

"_No desire to know_," it repeated breathlessly, the creased forehead crumpled further. "How odd: odd, and undeniably naïve. If this is true, then you are no warrior, but a fool for letting this opportunity pass," it paused, then released it's evaluation. "You are a fool, nothing more." It deduced, eyes focused intently on the blond in question.

"You're absolutely right," she agreed, "I'm no warrior." She decided to ignore the second half of it's statement. She couldn't see how being a fool or not would guarantee her own survival. As far as she was concerned, Wonderland was a land for fools, and it's inhabitants had all survived and flourished though the toughest of times. And here she was, the Queen of Wonderland; the Queen of Fools. Perhaps the unearthly creature did have a point after all.

It sighed, the crippled body heaving. "Oh well," then visibly brightened in an instant. "At least with that aside, we can end these trivialities. Me desire for blood is unquenched, you'll see."

"I will," Alice replied dully, a statement rather than a question.

It smiled coyly at her, an unattractive set of lips curling on an equally unattractive face. "Well then, let the feast begin."

In a crack of unnatural speed, the creatures leaped from their close-knit formation, surrounding the small banned who were uncomfortably outnumbered.

"What in Wonderland was that?!" Cried Gibson, his round head twisting this way and that, trying to watch out for each individual creature at once.

"The Volataire are renowned for three things," the creature - a Volataire, it now seemed – who had spoken earlier answered generously. "The first is their unnatural speed and grace-"

That now seemed quite obvious to the small band of travellers, who were surrounded by the mass of twisted shadows in a blink of the eye, or even less; a wink.

"-the second is their highly tunes senses. I can smell your fear; taste it, too. It's positively decadent," it grinned appreciatively. "And the third is our ability to predict. Already, we know who will be the victors of this little dispute. We also know of the outcome that will be from the far larger battle awaiting you, young Alice. We offer our condolences."

"You're lying," snarled Kip, his fists clenched.

The creature laughed carelessly, it's head thrown back to the point where it's muscles and bones stuck out of it's throat like a complex design of tree roots.

"I, Xavlier La Prompt, cannot physically lie. Believe me, I've tried countless times. Every time I open my mouth to tell a little white my lips are sewn shut," it's grin abruptly fell, a deep grimace replacing it. "A curse kindly bestowed upon me from the Red Queen."

His fellow creatures began to wail in protest of the name, a composition of fierce howls and cries of despair echoing from the pit of their stomachs.

"_May revenge be exacted!"_

"_Destroy her remains and feed them to the Rocking Horses!"_

"_Curse her in her grave!"_

"_Let shadows torture her eternally!"_

"_May Xavlier pour his judgement upon her bloodied heart!"_

And just like the final piece of a jigsaw being clicked into place, Alice could finally see the whole picture through the unnatural chorus of cursing and shouts.

"You-you were never here to fight us, were you?" She asked, barely containing her amazement. "Why, this is nothing but a coincidence!"

Xavlier stared at her levelly, boredom etched into his face.

"How you have ruined my enjoyment by your pathetic revelation," he told her dully.

"You came here for the heart, didn't you? What had you planned to do with it?" Alice's tongue now seemed fully unleashed, realising they had no original plans to harm them.

"You mean what I _still _plan to do with it? Destroy it, of course."

Something close to a choking sound came from Abaddon.

"As revenge?"

"What else? I told you, you insolent girl, we do not pick fights for anything more than amusement. We only join the winners of grand battles at the very end to ensure our race's survival. Why would we go around destroying things without purpose?" Xavlier cried, exasperated.

"You can't destroy it," Kip cried, waving his hands about in the air furiously.

Xavlier turned around slowly to face the scrawny man, glaring.

"And why ever not? I need my revenge."

Kip faced him in turn squarely. "You destroy that heart and you'll destroy everything you see around you, including yourselves: It's the heart of Wonderland."

----------x----------x----------x----------

**I sure am using these cliff-hangers to my full advantage, aren't I?**

**This chapter was originally going to be longer, but I thought it better to cut it off here.**

**Fun Fact: I was originally going to make this a proper fight/battle/action chapter, but I found I couldn't bring myself to do it. So it turned out to be a friendly chat over a cup of tea, lol. It's funny how chapters can evolve on their own accord.**

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	14. Chapter 14

**Explanation for long wait?**

**Uh…**

**Life?**

**Enough said.**

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**-x-x-x-**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Xavier La Prompt**

Xavier La Prompt, as Alice had quickly learned, was not a Volataire inclined for the frivolous. His twisted mouth afforded him no pleasures, no laughter, no enjoyment. What he found amusing was regarded by the rest of the world as vulgar and cruel. Perhaps it was this way with all the Volataire, perhaps not, but when Kip sheltered the Red Queen's pulsing heart with his own body, along with the claim that the muscle was the heart of all Wonderland, any reputation of Xavier La prompt being a dispassionate, hapless, miserable creature was abolished into nothing but myth.

He roared with laughter.

Merry, jovial laughter echoed through the ears of all surrounding as Xavier doubled over and clutched at the remains of his stomach, blood-hot tears streaming from the corners of his eyes, leaving a salty, crusty trail down his cheeks. He snorted through his laughs, as if being tickled by some invisible force of humour; an invisible demon; a keeper of practical jokes.

His laughter died down after a while into nothing but a breathy whiz, his lungs crumpled after such an exuberant effort of emotion. Glancing up at Kip through eyes still misty with humoured tears, Xavier regarded him for a silent moment, as if tasty the honesty surrounding the scrawny man. He chuckled again, though the sound held no humour this time. The outburst ended with an impatient sigh.

"You cannot be serious," he muttered darkly at Kip, wiping the tears and salt from his face with the back of one twig-like hand. "Don't tell me that that – that _moron's_ heart is the thing keeping this place going."

"It's the same with the entire Queen lineage. When one dies, her heart will pump as a life source for all during the new Queen's reign. When _that_ Queen dies, _her_ heart will replace the former, and so on," Kip returned dully, as if reciting his words from the document itself.

Xavier linked his hands behind his back, just as children do when assuring adults of their complete and utter innocence. He regarded Kip coolly through narrowed eyes.

"And what happens to that Queen's heart when it has been replaced?" Xavier asked nonchalantly, hands still linked somewhat precariously.

Kip shrugged, thin shoulders sagging like an ironed shirt hanging off a thin wire coat-hanger. "How should I know? I've never had my heart used for such a purpose."

"Never had his heart used for _any_ purpose," Gibson muttered gleefully.

Kip sent him a silencing frown, which even to this day he is still quite proud of.

Xavier was deep in thought, or at least, he appeared to be. You see, he was one of those creatures where one can never be quite sure whether what they are observing is real, or just an elaborate act. His brow was furrowed, his eyes downcast, one thin hand was tapping itself absentmindedly against his forehead while the other hung dead at his side. He _looked_ like he was about to reach some form of conclusion, some definite course of action – yet the whole ordeal of it seemed forced, like it was a position he was often able to evolve himself into, like a light switch turning on and off with a single flick of the finger. Perhaps it had something to do with his knowledge.

When one already knows the outcome of every dispute, the result of every war, the direction of every decision they will ever make, perhaps the simple act of pretending that you are thinking, evaluating and deciding is of great comfort. A little piece of fake normality is an abnormal world.

After a few tense moments of deliberating (or non-deliberating), Xavier snapped his head up in one startling, fluid motion.

"I'll make you a deal," he stated, voice slipping about calmly with alarmingly practised ease, "we'll leave this heart right here. We won't touch it. _I_ won't touch it. In return, you promise me that when Alice, Queen of Wonderland dies, the Red Queen's heart is mine – preserved, pumping, and perfect."

"But we have no idea what happens to the former heart when it is replaced," Alice cut in, panicked. "It could materialise into thin air-"

"Floating material," the Hatter tutted, "is never a good thing. Bad for hats, you know."

"-something disastrous could happen. I'm certain no one has ever attempted to-"

Xavier cut her off. "I couldn't care less, your majesty," he informed her brusquely. "I want that heart, and I want it in the same condition as you see it before you today. That's my only offer."

Alice shook her head, exasperated. "But how can you demand such a thing? We have no idea what may happen."

"_Make_ it happen," Xavier practically growled out. "Do we have a deal?"

Alice bit down on her lip, tasting the peculiar metallic sensation that tingles in the blood. Somehow, the term _signing your soul to the devil_ came to mind, and she chewed over the ominous thought.

"No," she decided.

"No?" Xavier smiled serenely.

"_No_," she repeated.

"Ah, but I was expecting you to say that," he chuckled mirthlessly. "Tell me then, what are your conditions?"

Alice shifted her weight from foot to foot, still not at peace with the idea of an existing creature knowing your next words before you state them. It unnerved her, in an unnatural, _signing your soul to the devil_ sort of way.

"You know, I once had a pet like you," Xavier told her conversationally as he waited. "A funny little Butter Bread; wouldn't stop falling down. _Always_ fell butter side-down, mind you. It was a terrible pain to clean up after it at times."

"How on earth would I remind you of such a creature?" Alice asked incredulously, if not a little warily.

Xavier shrugged easily, a smile playing on his gruesome lips. "Oh, you know," he said, although it was painfully apparent that she did not know. "That little Butter Bread was always trying to pick itself up from its falls and act like nothing happened - which was ridiculous, of course."

"And why is that?" Alice hazarded.

"There was only one creature of my acquaintance that left butter smeared on every surface it touched. The evidence of its faults were always painfully apparent to me."

His smile wasn't even condescending. It was arrogant.

A familiar heat rushed to Alice's forehead as her words came out harsher than usual. "You demands reach too far. If we were to fulfil them, we would need more from you."

"And what is it that you need?"

"Your assistance," her voice became only more clipped as Xavier's smile grew. "I will leave you the Red Queen's heart, and will make sure it comes to you in perfect condition in the event of my death. In return, you and your kind will fight beside us in this war that is about to begin. Do we have a deal?"

"Alice," Kip turned pale, "what if your life ends in this war approaching? There's no way to guarantee – I won't have any time to run tests, or even set up the proper equipment – there's no way we can - it can't possibly be the wise course to take. Please, reconsider."

"Yes your majesty," Xavier cackled, sweeping down low into a patronising bow. "Reconsider. We are scavengers, not fighters. We do not, by rule, side with any one. And if we do, it is only with the winner. Our duty rests only with scavenging off your remains when this war is all said and done for. Forget it. We ensure our own survival and our own survival only. We are selfish as we are scum."

"Forget the Red Queen's heart then. Find your revenge some other way," Alice informed him.

"Ha!" Xavier cried. "What makes you think I won't just take it now? I refused the deal, remember? I'll have my revenge at this moment."

Alice just shook her head, as small smile playing on her lips as Xavier's grin fell.

"I believe I don't have to tell you that to ensure your race's survival, which you seem so preoccupied with, you can't touch that heart. Not while I'm alive."

Xavier turned to her, aggravated. "You are lucky, girl, that I don't kill for my own pleasure," he spat.

"My luck, I believe, is questionable."

Xavier chuckled again, no doubt the most laughter he achieved in the course of one day. The sound was dry and rough, plainly different from the rest of his unhealthy sounds. He sighed indulgently.

"So it would seem," he said. "I'll give you this and only this, girl, because you amuse me: The creatures against you are close. Very close. And yet, that cat of yours is still set in stone. Allow my kind to attend to the creature, and we will restore him to you. It will be our thanks to you for feeding us when the time comes for it."

"Thank you," Alice couldn't help but comment dryly. "That's _such_ a comfort."

"What can I say? I've always had a taste for royalty, your majesty," Xavier smiled something reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat.

Hatter smiled at the comment.

"As have I."

**-x-x-x-**

**(Due to me wanting to get this up ASAP, the usual thanks and hugs will be delivered next chapter)**

**Hope you enjoyed! Till the next chapter,**

**Schnook.**


	15. Chapter 15

**ALICE II**

**the untold sequel**

**-x-x-x-**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**His Ring**

One of the biggest wonders in Wonderland, one of the biggest questions that would be left hanging in the air of this obscure, impossible place would be whether Alice's decision to revive the Cheshire Cat had been the right one. Throughout all the bloodshed and torment that had been happening in the recent years, some of the more reserved folk of Wonderland could not help but revel in the little peace they found when the Cheshire Cat was a stone statue. There had been no teasing, no practical jokes, no knowing grins or obscene gestures while the infamous cat was set as a garden statue. For the first time in the history of the incomprehensible little world that was Wonderland, the people could walk freely down the street or through the woods without the fear of the Cheshire Cat dropping on their heads or stealing their hats. It had been a wonderful feeling in those down years for the people, but, as Alice had decided a Wonderland without the cat would be no Wonderland at all, the feeling would be entirely short-lived.

After only a few hours, some obscure bright orange and yellow medicine Alice did not recognise (and further, had no wish to), a chorus of ancient chants belonging to the Volataire creatures, the Cheshire Cat's form began to crumble from it's bluey-grey complexion; the stony, manic grin began to relax; the erect claws scratching at the surface of the ground released, and the Cheshire Cat seemed to turn from stone, then to liquid, and finally to the familiar sight of fat and fur.

And just like that, Alice knew that peace within Wonderland could never _entirely_ be guaranteed with this cat before her living here.

"Cheshire Cat!" The Mad Hatter cried, thrusting his hands up in the air as if saluting the sky. It seemed as though his face was entirely too bright, too ecstatic, to welcome back an old friend who had certainly caused him a great deal of childish torment throughout his life. Nonetheless, the Hatter beamed as if he were welcoming the Dormouse itself back into his life. "It's been _so_ long! I almost began to worry."

The Cheshire Cat, who had barely moved a paw, grinned slowly like stretching leather. "Well, I am _so_ glad you did not perform the actual act. Worrying, I hear, makes one turn grey." The words slipped out in the familiar velvet tone Alice remembered so well, even from her childhood. He spoke languidly, as if in no rush to please or disappoint: he simply was.

"Ah, but I am one step ahead," the Hatter amended triumphantly, sticking one finger up in the air like a tiny soldier. The _of course_ was implied rather than said.

"White?" the feline purred. He swiped the air with a claw - testing. Always testing.

"What else?" sighed a content Hatter, pulling at a lock of his blindingly white hair that hung askew from beneath his obscenely large, orange hat. Not a beat passed before the Cheshire cat made some sort of soft hooting sound that stood in place for his laugh. Amusement, after all, had always been the Cheshire Cat's favourite emotion. He toyed with it instead of experiencing it.

"Your logic has always had the ability to astound me, Hatter," the cat grinned again, now stretching out his newly attained body; testing it out as if it were some new toy, twisting it this way and that. "Wherever I go, I am sure I will find none like it."

"I am afraid your quite mistaken, cat," the Hatter shook his head sadly, "Logic left me long ago. Said he was sick of my inability to clean up after myself. Left the house without even saying his farewells."

The Volataire had left at this stage, in the same fashion as the Logic the Hatter described did. They simply dissolved once again, without saying their farewells or promises to keep to their bargain. Xavier did, however, give a brief nod in their general direction before he disappeared with the rest of his clan. There was a promise in his eyes, and it may have been the only thing to leave Alice feeling as easy as she did with their departure. He would not forget. He could not forget. Alice clung to this resolve as if it were her lifeboat, all the while listening abstractedly to the nonsensical conversation held between the Hatter and the Cheshire Cat.

"So, Logic has finally left you, has he?" The Cheshire Cat hooted softly, a sound suited far more to the wise, night-dwelling birds than the sly, shrewd cat. It may have been the only thing that seemed out of place with the Cheshire Cat; the only thing that didn't fit who he was in essence perfectly. Alice wondered if it may have been a minor negative effect from his hurried transformation. "And if Logic has indeed moved on," the cat in question chuckled again in his soft, bird-like way as the Hatter nodded, "who, exactly, has taken his place?"

Hatter shrugged, his shoulders heaving against the effort as his hat slipped down his forehead. "How should I know? I'm too tired, too old, too lazy to keep check on everyone who comes by me now. It most likely is Nonsense, or even Hallucination. I know the latter left the March Hare a month or so ago; said she was taking a short break. It's quite possible she's moved onto me," a thought must of suddenly occurred to him, as his eyes snapped open from their dreary, half-opened stare to a bright spark, "tell me, are you real? Or am I imagining you? Did Alice even truly come? Am I really here, out in the middle of nowhere? Good gracious, tell me I'm not!" He finished with a flippant cry, pulling the flaps of his hat down over his ears.

"I'm quite real, Hatter," Alice moved to give his arm a reassuring pat, as if reminding him that she was, indeed, quite solid in being. "We all are."

"So set on madness possessing your soul, Hatter," the Cheshire Cat tut-tutted, his grin only fading away momentarily before it fired up again into a full-fledged manic grin. A thought of obscenely dramatic proportions had popped into his head, obviously. Alice winced a little, trying in vain to mentally prepare herself to whatever slaughter of words the ghastly cat was about to perform. His grin remained stretched, and a mischievous gleam took over his beady eyes.

"So set on selling your soul to the obscure. Surely there must be more to you then simply being _mad_?"

Hatter shrugged again, this time a little slower, a little more drearily. He fingered the edge of his bright overcoat, a garment he wore no matter what weather Wonderland was serving. His words came out just as slow, just as drearily as his body had moved.

"I am the Mad Hatter, am I not?"

And surely it must be so. He entire being spoke of madness: his ridiculous words, irrational thoughts, his obscene attire, his favourite past time, his favourite beverage, right down to the very gleam in his once ordinary eyes. His grandfather had been the Mad Hatter, sitting down at the head of the table drinking his tea while giggling into the sugar bowl with the March Hare at his side. Hatter's father, too, had once filled the position of Mad Hatter, sitting down at the head of the table, giggling into the saucer with the March Hare beside him. Hatter's entire lineage had been made up of babbling, tea-consuming madmen and women, sitting at an unusually large rectangle table with a Hare on one side and an empty, red, wing-back chair on the other. Empty. Except for him. He had had a little girl sit there. Then a young woman. Empty; but not for him.

Nonetheless, it was certain he, too, would be – no, _is_ – just another mad, mad, Mad Hatter, sitting down at the head of the table, giggling into his teacup, with the March Hare loyally beside him.

Yet, still, there was Alice.

And that was the maddest thing of all, of course; the most horrifying of all his crimes against logic, against _nature_, against his position in society as the local madman was the belief that he was capable of love. Of loving someone. Of loving a woman. Of being loved in return.

And yet he was Mad. Not just mad, but truly Mad.

This was what plagued the Mad Hatter the most; he knew it, he knew now that the Cheshire Cat knew. He only prayed Alice did not know it.

"You are, you are the Mad Hatter," the Cheshire Cat grinned, drawing odd shapes in the dirt with one sharp claw. "And while Logic has left you, it has left an open space for others to come in and inhabit. Anything: Arrogance, Boldness, Clumsiness, Disorder, Envy, Fear, Garishness, Hate, Irony, Jealousy, Love. Take your pick."

Kip frowned from where he sat perched on the same rough boulder as Gibson. "You missed 'K.'"

"It's irrelevant," snarled the cat, "my point is made." He returned to drawing odd shapes in the dirt.

"What point was that?" Alice queried, but after seeing the grin spreading on that darn cat's face, she wished she had dared not ask.

"Dear, dear, dear, _dear _Alice," he purred extravagantly, his drawings becoming suspiciously more formed. "Why should I tell you? You will find out soon enough, surely."

Alice gritted her teeth, feeling a flare in her old temper being flamed by the feline. She had thought she had mastered that temper of hers, and yet, here she was still battling to keep herself from crying out in frustration and stomping off. It had been a long time since she felt like her seven-year-old self trapped in Wonderland. the Cheshire Cat seemed to possess the uncanny ability to bring it out of her whenever he so desired.

"When I arranged to have you brought back to your former state, I was certain such a kindness would not incite you to-to-"

The cat smiled. The darn cat smiled. "Incite me to?"

"Tease me!" Alice cried out, exasperated. It seemed a little while without the Cheshire Cat would make those certain skills like _patience_ grow a little rusty.

His smile grew into a grin. "Oh, but my dear, dear Alice. I'm not teasing you. I'm _helping_ you."

"Well, stop it," she concluded, feeling the frazzled, bored and curious seven-year-old emerge again from under the depths of twelve years of propriety and order. Wonderland was seeping through twelve long, arduous years. And it felt wonderful.

He just grinned.

**-x-x-x-**

Xavier La Prompt had said the creatures were close.

There were two things in this small scrap of information that concerned Alice. That even frightened Alice, as much as she would hate to admit it.

The first, and perhaps the more obvious of the two, was that they were close. This was no comforting thought, and yet, in some small, strange place in her heart she felt a surge of relief at the news. It would almost be over. The sleepless nights, the worrying, the fear, the thought of losing – losing the battle, losing the war, losing the people, losing the ones she loved – would soon be over. Perhaps permanently. No – Xavier had guaranteed their failure. Her emotions would be stifled permanently. There was no perhaps. And in its own strange way, the thought was comforting. Peace – at last, yet it would be achieved by the least favourable of means: failure. There was a silver lining as there was a rain cloud.

The second concern was of a far more ambiguous nature, and really, the concern itself may have been petty. Xavier La Prompt had said the creatures were close.

The fact that a creature who had lived for who-knows-how-long, with a sense to apprehend the future, could not even put a title to these enemies except for 'the creatures' did not improve her mood. In a way, it made their already determined failure even worse – they were belittled further still by calling the enemies by such a fearsome, ambiguous title, as if they were afraid of saying their enemies names aloud. She knew there was little she could do, but that persistent, niggling spirit of her childhood self that had been nibbling at her all that day demanded she do something about it. Her dignity demanded it. She did not care if she even had to make up a name for 'the creatures' – she would do it. She _must_ do it. For all of them, not just herself.

But first, the priority was that they set up camp. The nights were growing colder for some peculiar reason – it was the wrong time in London for such a change, yet she had given up trying to reason it. She was, after all, in Wonderland.

So this was to be the merry band that met the creatures when the day came for it: Kip and Gibson, The Tweedles, The Cheshire Cat, The Mad Hatter and Alice herself.

She had ordered her army to find the people protection. Now she would pay for those orders, but she couldn't bring it upon herself to feel afraid, or even bitter. Perhaps she had truly been stronger as a child.

She had done right. What else was there to consider but a new name for the creatures that were now the bane of her existence?

Camp had been set, with all the mismatching odds and ends of Wonderland to reside in it for the night. Alice couldn't help but smile to herself – with all the horror and mutiny that was war, terror, gloom, it was these kinds of events that had the ability to draw the strangest people together to the one place. Here she was – absentmindedly stroking the Cheshire Cat's left ear (whom she had loathed as a child), watching the Tweedles argue over firewood (whom the Cheshire Cat loathed all his life), where two grown men, one fat, one skinny (who had loathed each other all their lives before an unfortunate accident occurred involving a rabbit hole), sat together discussing their glory days living as children in a world only Alice would be able to understand.

The sun was setting, and an odd serenity came over Alice as she watched these personalities, silhouettes against a coloured sky. She felt she could sleep. She forced her eyes to stay open, and found the Hatter to be watching her.

Involuntarily, her mind added: _as he always does_. It was an observation her consciousness had always managed to block out till now. She wondered when it had stopped bothering her. And even more importantly, when she had began to hope for it.

He was making his way over to her, and she felt a low feeling pass through her stomach. It was the feeling of watching the inevitable. The very same feeling as knowing your future. The feeling of hope and fear rolled in disbelief. She felt surreal at this moment, and she could not be sure of what she would say to this man if he would talk to her.

He stood over her, tall and steady and dark against the darkening sky. She could not be sure whether it was truly as quiet as she believed it to be or if her mind had only blocked the rest out.

He held out his hand to her, and she took it.

Lord, forgive her. She took it.

She felt as though she were watching the scene outside of her own body, watching herself thread her arm through the crook of his elbow as he guided her away from the camp. She was watching ahead of her, never looking at him. She could not dare to.

How long had they walked for? She could still see the small, darkened figures of their companions in the distance. It had felt like they had walked so much longer. Every step had been heavy.

Hatter looked at her, and smiled something incomprehensible.

"Alice," he said, and it sounded like a promise.

The creatures were closing in, as soon as the following day. They would lose, it was certain. They would die. Wonderland would be overthrown. She would never see London again. Never see her parents again. Never stroke Dinah by the fire with a familiar book in her Father's library. She knew, yet she didn't know. She would die _Alice in Wonderland_, with her seven-year-old self lost in a world of fantasy and fiction.

But that was okay.

Because she was standing in an open field, with dirt beneath her sturdy, practical boots and the yellowed grass brushing as high as her thigh, and the Mad Hatter had invited her to tea, to war, and then to love, and all was fine because she was facing him now, and she was certain what needed to be said would be said, and what didn't need to be spoken wouldn't be. He was still holding her hand – she felt the ripples in his cotton glove press against her palm.

"Here," he opened her free hand and she felt something cool and thin being pressed into her palm. "You lost your first one, accept mine as second."

She held the ring steady in her palm, watching it as if it were some foreign object.

She remembered.

A listless day.

A forlorn mood.

A ring.

Arthur's ring.

An un-ladylike run.

A trip to the woods.

Wonderland.

When had she lost Arthur's engagement ring? Had it been at the Hare's home? The castle? On their journey now? It was of no matter.

Because she was holding his ring.

The Hatter's ring.

**-x-x-x-**

***GASP***

**I guess you could say this is the beginning of the end.**

**I'm sorry I cut it there, but I needed the scene to continue to the next chapter.**

**I can't believe this story is nearly over. I guess now is a good time to say there won't be **_**another**_** sequel to this one. The Alice series will stop with ALICE II. There will be no ALICE III.**

**I better make the most of what I got then, eh?**

_**The following reviewers keep this story going:**_

**Finnelyfish.x** – _I think your review made my day, even just by using the word 'predicament.' Hope you enjoyed the chapter!_

**James Birdsong **_– Thankyou so much!_

**SingerToPotatos **_– Hope the Hatter action here made up for his, erm, lack of appearances in the last few chapters. I thought now wwas an appropriate time to shed more light on his character and his, erm, feelings (squeeeaaal) (sorry, I get excited with my own characters' love lives…)_

**AnimeMixDJ **_– ah, yes, cliff hangers are gods greatest gift. Enjoy 'em! I shall have no mercy! Hope you enjoyed this chapter :)_

**5arahZ0ey **_– your compliments inflate my head x3! Thank you though! Hope you liked this instalment!_

**ifeelsoincredible** _– eek, your reviews are too kind! I'm glad you enjoy this story – it makes me so excited to think someone is reading it __and__ enjoying it! Thank you!_

**hawk_without_wings **_– I hope you liked this chapter! :)_

**irish girl **_– I'm so glad someone else is as obsessed with Wonderland as I am! (Wouldn't we all just love to be Alice?) Thanks so much for the review!_

**Suzy-Hightop1 **_– (cool name, by the way) There's no way I'm leaving this story unfinished – I've seen too many people give up on a good thing. I just hope you'll enjoy reading it as I do writing it! Hope you liked this chapter!_

**xxjhopsterxx **_– thank you! Hope you liked this chap! :)_

**alexis **_– We seem to have been on the same wave-link! A little romance never went astray! ;) _


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